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BLIND     LOVE 


VOL.   I. 


NEW  KOYELS  AT  ALL  LIBRARIES. 


THE  RELL  OF  ST.  PAUL'S.    By  Walter  Besant. 

3  vols. 

FOR  THE  LOVE  OF  A  LASS.     By  Austin  Clare. 

2  vols. 

FETTERED    FOR    LIFE.      By   Frank   Barrett. 

3  vols. 

PASSION'S    SLAVE.      By    Richard    Ashe    King. 

3  vols. 

A     YANKEE     AT     THE      COURT     OF     KING 
ARTHUR.     By  Mark  Twain,     i  vol. 

THE    DEAD    MAN'S    SECRET  ;    or,  the  Valley  of 
Gold.     By  J.  E.  Muddock.     i  vol. 

THE    ROMANCE    OF   JENNY    HARLOWE.     By 
W.  Clakk  Russell,     i  vol. 

London  :  CHATTO  &  WINDUS,   Piccadilly,  W. 


Blind     Love 


BY 


WILKIE    COLLINS 


iVITH   A    PREFACE   BV    WALTER    BESANT   AND 
ILLUSTRATIONS   BV    A.   FORESTIER 

IN    THREE    VOLUMES 
VOL.  I. 


IT  0  n  b  0  It 
CHATTO    &    WINDUS,    PICCADILLY 


The  Illustrations  to  this  Story  are  reproduced  jroin 
'  The  Illustrated  London  News,^  by  kind  permission  of 
the  P7-oprietors  of  that  Journal 


v>) 

4 


PREFACE 


Jv       J^N  the  month  of  August,  and  in  the  middle  of 
the  seaside  holiday,  a  message  came  to  me 
from    Wilkie  Collins,  then,   though    ice    hoped 


^     otherwise,  on  his  death-bed. 


It  was  conveyed  to  me  by  Mr.  A.  P.  Watt. 
f^      The   icords   of  his  letter   were  as  follows :   '  I 
J      have  just  come  from    Wilkie    Collins,   who   is 
J      very  ill.     He  told   me  that  his  novel,  "  Blind 
V       Love,''  is  unfinished,  and  that  it  is  quite  im- 
possible for  him  to  tJiiidc  of  finishing  it.     Then 
he  said :  "  Ash  Walter  Besant  if  he  ivill  finish 
it  for  me.     Tell  him  that  I  would  do  as  much 
>^for  him  if  he  were  in  my  r)lace  and  I  in  his. 
^      If  he  has  the  time  I  tlnnk  he  will  do  this  for 
'  f      vie.      We  are  both  old  hands  at  the  work,  and 


t 


V  ^  BLIND  LOVE 

vje  understand  it.''  He  has  placed  in  my 
hands  the  notes  of  the  remainder^  which  I  will 
forward  to  you  if  you  can  accede  to  his  request. 
Under  the  circumstances  of  the  case,  it  was 
impossible  to  decline  this  request.  I  wrote  to 
say  that  time  should  he  made,  and  the  notes 
were  forwarded  to  me  at  Bohin  Hood's  Bay.  I 
began  by  reading  carefully  and  twice  over,  so 
as  to  get  a  grip  of  the  story  and  the  novelist's 
intention,  the  part  that  had  already  appeared  in 
the  '  Blustrated  London  News,'  and  the  proofs  so 
far  as  the  author  had  gone.  1  then  turried  to  the 
notes.  I  found  that  these  were  not  merely  notes, 
such  as  I  had  expected — simple  indications  of 
the  plot  and  the  develoqoment  of  events — hut  an 
actual  detailed  scenario,  in  which  every  incident, 
however  trivial,  teas  carefully  laid  down:  there 
were  also  fragments  of  dialogue  inserted  at 
those  places  where  dialogue  was  wanted  to  em- 
phasise the  situation  and  make  it  real.  I  was 
much  struck  with  the  writer's  perception  of  the 


PREFACE  vii 

vast  importance  of  dialogue  in  making  the 
reader  seize  the  scene.  Description  requires 
attention :  dialogue  rivets  attention. 

It  is  not  an  easy  task,  nor  is  it  pleasant,  to 
carry  on  another  mans  work :  hut  the  possession 
of  this  scenario  lightened  the  work  enormously. 
I  have  been  careful  to  adhere  faithfully  and 
exactly  to  the  plot,  scene  by  scene,  down  to  the 
smallest  detail  as  it  icas  laid  down  by  the  author 
in  this  book.  I  have  altered  nothing.  I  have 
jyreserved  and  incorporated  every  fragment  of 
dialogue.  I  have  used  the  very  language 
wherever  that  was  ivritten  so  carefidly  as  to 
show  that  it  was  meant  to  be  used.  I  think  that 
there  is  only  one  trivial  detail  ichere  I  had  to 
choose,  because  it  was  not  clear  from  the  notes 
what  the  author  had  intended.  The  plot  of  the 
novel,  every  scene,  every  situation,  from  begin- 
ning to  end,  is  the  work  of  Wilkie  Collins.  The 
actual  writing  is  entirely  his  up  to  a  certain 
point:  froon  that  point  to  the  end  it  is  his  in 


viii  BUND  LOVE 

fragments^  hut  mainly  mine.  Where  his  writing 
ends  and  mine  begins^  I  need  not  point  out. 
The  practised  critic  will,  no  douht,  at  once  lay 
his  finger  on  the  spot. 

I  have  therefore  cariied  out  the  author  s 
wishes  to  the  best  of  my  ahility.  Would  that 
he  icere  liviiig  still,  if  only  to  regret  that  he  had 
not  been  allowed  to  finish  his  last  work  with  his 
oimi  hand  ! 

Walter  Be s ant. 


CONTENTS 


THE    FIRST   VOLUME 


PROLOGUE 


PAG-E 

1 


THE    STORY 

FIBST  PEBIOD 


tHAPTER 

I.    THE    SOUR   FRENCH   WINE        .  .  .  . 

II.    THE    MAN    SHE    REFUSED      .... 
III.    THE    REGISTERED    PACKET       .  .  .  . 

IV.    THE    GAME  :    MOUNTJOY    LOSES    . 

V.    THE    GAME  '.    MOUNTJOY    PLAYS    A    NEW    CARD 
VI.    THE    GAME  :    MOUNTJOY   WINS      . 
VII.    DOCTORING    THE    DOCTOR         .  .  .  . 

VIII.    HER   father's    MESSAGE    .... 
IX.    MR.    VIMPANY    ON    INTOXICATION      . 
X.    THE    MOCKERY    OF    DECEIT  . 


97 


134 

150 
166 
181 
198 
212 
21:5 


X  BLIND  LOVE 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XI.    MRS.    VIMPANY'S    FAREWELL 231 

XIL    LORD    HARRY'S    DEFENCE 247 

SECOND   PERIOD 

XIII.  IRIS   AT    HOME 260 

XIV.  THE    lady's-maid 278 

XV.  MR.  Henley's  temper         .         .         .         .         .     .  288 

XVI.    THE    DOCTOR    IN    FULL    DRESS 294 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

TO   VOL.    I 


'  DENNIS,  I  HAVE  GOT  SOMETHING  FOR  YOU  TO  DO.  IT 
MUST    BE     KEPT     A      SECRET,     AND      IT      ALLOWS     OF      NO 

DELAY  ' Froritispiece 

LIFTING  THE  PERFORATED  PAPER,  HE  PLACED  IT  DELI- 
CATELY OVER  THE  PAGE  WHICH  CONTAINED  THE  UN- 
INTELLIGIBLE WRITING.  .  .  .     To  face  i^age     13 

MRS.  LEWSON'S  FACE  BRIGHTENED  IN  AN  INSTANT  :  SHE 
THREW  THE  DOOR  WIDE  OPEN  WITH  A  GLAD  CRY  OF 
RECOGNITION 61 

SHE  DREW  OUT  A  SILVER  TRAVELLING-FLASK.  ONE  GLANCE 
AT  THE  NAME  ENGRA\TED  ON  IT  TOLD  HIM  THE  TERRIBLE 
TRUTH 95 

IMPULSrV'ELY    SHE    DREW    HIS    HEAD    DOWN  .  .  .  .111 

NOW,'  SHE    SAID.    TAKING   A    CHAIR  BY    THE    BEDSIDE,    '  YOU 

SHALL   KNOW   WHAT   A   CLEVER  W^IFE    YOU    HAVE    GOT'    .197. 

THE  WILD  LORD  READ  IT  :  LOOKED  (TO  USE  THE  MES- 
SENGER'S OWN  words)  LIKE  A  MAN  CUT  TO  THE  HEART, 
AND    SEEMED    AT    A    LOSS    WHAT    TO    SAY    OR    DO         .  .    265 


BLIND     LOVE 


THE  PEOLOGUE 


OON  after  sunrise,  on 
a  cloudy  morning 
in  the  year  1881, 
a  special  messen- 
ger disturbed  the 
repose  of  Dennis 
)A  Howmore,    at    his 

place  of  residence  in  the  pleasant  Irish  town 
of  Ardoon. 

Well  acquainted  apparently  with  the  way 
upstairs,  the  man  thumped  on  a  bedroom 
door,  and  shouted   Lis   message  through  it 

/,       VOL.   I. 


c 
B 


2  BLIND  LOVE 

'  The  master  wants  you,  and  mind  you  don't 
keep  liim  waLling.' 

The  person  sendmg  tliis  peremptory  mes- 
sage was  Sir  Giles  Mountjoy  of  Ardoon ; 
knight  and  l}anker.  Tlie  person  receiving 
the  message  was  Sir  Giles's  head  clerk.  As  a 
matter  of  course,  Dennis  Howmore  dressed 
himself  at  full  speed,  and  hastened  to  his 
emplvoyer's  private  house  on  the  outskirts  of 
the  town. 

He  found  Sir  Giles  in  an  irritable  and 
anxious  state  of  mind.  A  letter  lay  open  on 
the  banker's  bed,  his  night-cap  was  crumpled 
crookedly  on  his  head,  he  was  in  too  great  a 
hurry  to  remember  the  claims  of  politeness, 
when  the  clerk  said  '  Good-mornino\' 

'  Dennis,  I  have  got  something  for  you  to 
do.  It  must  be  kept  a  secret,  and  it  allows 
of  no  delay.' 

'  Is  it  anything  connected  with  business, 
sir?' 


THE  PROLOGUE  3 

The  banker  lost  his  temper.  '  How  can 
you  be  such  an  infernal  fool  as  to  suppose 
that  anything  connected  with  business  could 
happen  at  this  time  in  the  morning  ?  Do  you 
know  the  first  milestone  on  the  road  to 
Garvan  ? ' 

'  Yes,  sir/ 

'  Very  w^ell.  Go  to  the  milestone,  and 
take  care  that  nobody  sees  you  when  you  get 
there.  Look  at  the  back  of  the  stone.  If 
you  discover  an  Object  which  appears  to 
have  been  left  in  that  situation,  on  tlie 
ground,  brino-  it  to  me ;  and  don't  forget  that 
the  most  impatient  man  in  all  Ireland  is  wait- 
ing for  you.' 

Not  a  word  of  explanation  followed  these 
extraordinary  instructions. 

The  head  clerk  set  forth  on  his  errand, 
with  his  mind  dweUing  on  the  national 
tendencies  to  conspiracy  and  assassination. 
His  employer  was  not  a  popular  person.     Sir 


4  I^LIND  LOVE 

Giles  liacl  paid  rent  when  lie  owed  it ;  and, 
worse  still,  was  disposed  to  remember  in  a 
friendly  spirit  what  England  had  done  for 
Ireland,  in  the  course  of  the  last  fifty  years. 
If  anything  appeared  to  justify  distrust  of  the 
mysterious  Object  of  which  he  was  in  search, 
Dennis  resolved  to  be  vigilantly  on  the  look- 
out for  a  gun- barrel,  whenever  he  passed  a 
hedge  on  his  return  journey  to  the  town. 

Arrived  at  the  milestone,  he  discovered 
on  the  ground  behind  it  one  Object  only — a 
fragment  of  a  broken  tea-cup. 

Naturally  enough,  Dennis  hesitated.  It 
seemed  to  be  impossible  that  tlie  earnest  and 
careful  instructions  which  he  had  received 
could  relate  to  such  a  trifle  as  this.  At  the 
same  time,  he  was  acting  under  orders  which 
were  as  positive  as  tone,  manner,  and  language 
could  make  them.  Passive  obedience  ap- 
peared to  be  the  one  safe  course  to  take — at 
the  risk  of  a  reception,  irritating  to  any  man's 


THE  PROLOGUE  ^ 

self-respect,  when  he  returned  to  his  employer 
with  a  broken  tea-cup  in  his  hand. 

The  event  entirely  failed  to  justify  his 
misgivings.  There  could  be  no  doubt  that 
Sir  Giles  attached  serious  importance  to  the 
contemptible  discovery  made  at  the  milestone. 
After  having  examined  and  re-examined  the 
fragment,  he  announced  his  intention  of  send- 
ing the  clerk  on  a  second  errand — still  with- 
out troubling  himself  to  explain  what  his 
incomprehensible  instructions  meant. 

'  If  I  am  not  mistaken,'  he  began,  '  the 
Reading  Rooms,  in  our  town,  open  as  early 
as  nine.  Very  well.  Go  to  the  Rooms  this 
morning,  on  the  stroke  of  the  clock.'  He 
stopped,  and  consulted  the  letter  which  lay 
open  on  his  bed.  '  Ask  the  librarian,'  he 
continued,  '  for  the  third  volume  of  Gibbon's 
"  Dechne  and  Fall  of  the  Roman  Empire." 
Open  the  book  at  pages  seventy-eight  and 
seventy-nine.     If  you  find  a  piece  of  paper 


6  BLIND  LOVE 

between  those  two  leaves,  take  possession  of 
it  when  nobody  is  looking  at  you,  and  bring 
it  to  me.  That's  all,  Dennis.  And  bear  in 
mind  that  I  shall  not  recover  the  use  of  my 
patience  till  I  see  you  again.' 

On  ordinary  occasions,  the  head  clerk  was 
not  a  man  accustomed  to  insist  on  what  was 
due  to  his  dignity.  At  the  same  time  he 
was  a  sensible  human  beimj,  conscious  of  the 
consideration  to  which  his  responsible  place 
in  the  office  entitled  him.  Sir  Giles's  irritat- 
ing reserve,  not  even  excused  by  a  word  of 
apology,  reached  the  limits  of  his  endurance. 
He  respectfully  protested. 

'  I  regret  to  find,  sir,'  he  said,  '  that  I  have 
lost  my  place  in  my  employer's  estimation. 
The  man  to  whom  you  confide  the  superin- 
tendence of  your  clerks  and  the  transaction 
of  your  business  has,  I  venture  to  think,  some 
claim  (under  the  present  circumstances)  to  be 
trusted.' 


THE  PROLOGUE  7 

The  banker  was  now  offended  on  Ids  side. 

'  I  readily  admit  your  claim,'  he  answered, 
'  when  you  are  sitting  at  your  desk  in  my 
office.  But,  even  in  these  days  of  strikes, 
co-operations,  and  bank  holidays,  an  employer 
has  one  privilege  left — he  has  not  ceased  to  be 
a  Man,  and  he  has  not  forfeited  a  man's  right 
to  keep  his  own  secrets.  I  fail  to  see  any- 
thing in  my  conduct  which  has  given  you 
just  reason  to  complain.' 

Dennis,  rebuked,  made  his  bow  in  silence, 
and  withdrew. 

Did  these  acts  of  humility  mean  that  he 
submitted  ?  They  meant  exactly  the  con- 
trary. He  had  made  up  his  mind  that  Sir 
Giles  Mountjoy's  motives  should,  sooner  or 
later,  cease  to  be  mysteries  to  Sir  Giles 
Mountjoy's  clerk. 


BLIND  LOVE 


II 

Carefully  following  his  instruc- 
tions, he  consulted  the  third 
volume  of  Gibbon's  great  History, 
and  found,  between  the  seventj^-eighth  and 
seventy-ninth  pages,  something  remarkable 
this  time. 

It  was  a  sheet  of  delicately-made  paper, 
pierced  with  a  number  of  little  holes,  infi- 
nitely varied  in  size,  and  cut  with  the 
smoothest  precision.  Having  secured  this 
curious  object,  while  the  librarian's  back  was 
turned,  Dennis  Howmore  reflected. 

A  page  of  paper,  unintelligibly  perforated 
for  some  purpose  unknown,  was  in  itself  a 
suspicious  thing.  And  what  did  suspicion 
suggest    to    tlie    inquiring    mind   in   South- 


THE  PROLOGUE  9 

Western   Ireland,  before   the  suppression  of 
tlie  Land  League  ?     Unquestionably — Police  ! 
On  the  way  back   to  his    employer,  the 
banker's  clerk  paid  a  visit  to  an  old  friend — a 
journalist  by  profession  ;  and  a  man  of  varied 
learning  and  experience  as  well.     Livited  to 
inspect  the  remarkable  morsel  of  paper,  and 
to  discover  tlie  object  with  which  the  perfora- 
tions had  been  made,  the  authority  consulted 
proved  to  be  worthy  of  the  trust  reposed  in 
him.      Dennis   left   the   newspaper-office    an 
enlightened    man — with   information    at    the 
disposal  of  Sir  Giles,  and  with  a  sense  of  relief 
which  expressed   itself  irreverently  in  these 
words  :  '  Xow  I  have  got  him  ! ' 

The  bewildered  banker  looked  backwards 
and  forwards  from  the  paper  to  the  clerk,  and 
from  the  clerk  to  the  paper.  '  I  don't  under- 
stand it,'  he  said.     '  Do  you  ?  ' 

Still  preserving  the  appearance  of  humility, 
Dennis  asked  leave  to  venture  on  a  iruess. 


lo  BLIND  LOVE 

The  perforated  paper  looked,  as  he  thought, 
like  a  Puzzle.  '  If  we  wait  for  a  day  or  two,' 
he  suggested,  '  the  Key  to  it  may  possibly 
reach  us.' 

On  the  next  day,  nothing  happened.  On 
the  day  after,  a  second  letter  made  another 
audacious  demand  on  the  fast-failing  patience 
of  Sir  Giles  Mountjoy. 

Even  the  envelope  proved  to  be  a  puzzle 
on  this  occasion  ;  the  postmark  was  'Ardoon.' 
In  other  words,  the  writer  had  used  the  post- 
man as  a  messenger,  while  he  or  his  accom- 
plice was  actually  in  the  town  posting  the  letter 
within  half  a  minute's  walk  of  the  bank  !  The 
contents  presented  an  im])enetrable  mystery, 
the  writing  looked  worthy  of  a  madman. 
Sentences  appeared  in  the  wildest  state  of  con- 
fusion, and  words  were  so  mutilated  as  to  be 
unintelhgible.  This  time,  the  force  of  circum- 
stances was  more  tlian  Sir  Giles  could  resist. 
He  took  the  clerk  into  his  confidence  at  last. 


THE  PROLOGUE  il 

'  Let  US  begin  at  the  beginning,'  he  said. 
'There  is  the  letter  you  saw  on  my  bed,  when 
I  first  sent  for  you.  I  found  it  waiting  on  my 
table  when  I  woke  ;  and  I  don't  know  who 
put  it  there.     Eead  it.' 

Dennis  read  as  follows  : 

'  Sir  Giles  Mountjoy, — I  have  a  disclosure 
to  make,  in  which  one  of  the  members  of  your 
family  is  seriously  interested.  Before  I  can 
venture  to  explain  myself,  I  must  be  assured 
that  I  can  trust  to  your  good  faith.  As  a 
test  of  this,  I  require  you  to  fulfil  the  two  con- 
ditions that  follow — and  to  do  it  without  the 
slightest  loss  of  time.  I  dare  not  trust  you 
yet  with  my  address,  or  my  signature.  Any  act 
of  carelessness,  on  my  part,  might  end  fatally 
for  the  true  friend  who  writes  these  lines.  If 
you  neglect  this  warning,  you  will  regret  it  to 
the  end  of  your  life.' 

To  the  conditions  on  which  the  letter  in- 
sisted there  is  no  need  to  allude.     They  had 


12  BLIND  LOVE 

been  complied  with  when  the  discoveries  were 
made  at  the  back  of  the  milestone,  and  be- 
tween the  pages  of  Gibbon's  History.  Sir 
Giles  had  already  arrived  at  the  conclu- 
sion that  a  conspiracy  was  in  progress  to 
assassinate  him,  and  perhaps  to  rob  the 
bank.  The  wiser  head  clerk  pointed  to  the 
perforated  paper  and  the  incomprehensible 
writing  received  that  morning.  '  If  we  can 
find  out  what  these  mean,'  he  said,  '^o\\ 
may  be  better  able,  sir,  to  form  a  correct 
opinion.' 

'And  who  is  to  do  that.^'  the  banker 
asked. 

'  I  can  but  try,  sir,'  was  the  modest  reply, 
'if  you  see  no  objection  to  my  making  the 
attempt.' 

Sir  Giles  approved  of  the  proposed  experi- 
ment, silently  and  satirically,  by  a  bend  of  his 
head. 

Too  discreet  a  man  to  make  a  suspiciously 


Liftms  the  pC7-forated  paper,  he  placed  it  delicately  over  the  page  luhich  contained  tJic 
unintelligible  ivritiiig. 


THE  PROLOGUE  13 

ready  use  of  the  information  which  he  liad 
privately  obtained,  Dennis  took  care  that  his 
first  attempt  should  not  be  successful.  After 
modestly  asking  permission  to  try  again,  he 
ventured  on  the  second  occasion  to  arrive  at  a 
happy  discovery.  Lifting  the  perforated  paper, 
he  placed  it  delicately  over  the  page  which  con- 
tained the  unintelligible  writing.  Words  and 
sentences  now  appeared  (through  the  holes 
in  the  paper)  in  their  right  spelling  and 
arrangement,  and  addressed  Sir  Giles  in  these 
terms : 

*I  beg  to  thank  you,  sir,  for  complying 
with  my  conditions.  You  have  satisfied  me 
of  your  good  faith.  At  the  same  time,  it  is 
possible  that  you  may  liesitate  to  trust  a  man 
who  is  not  yet  able  to  admit  you  to  his 
confidence.  The  perilous  position  in  which  I 
stand  obliges  me  to  ask  for  two  or  three  days 
more  of  delay,  before  I  can  safely  make  an 
appointment  with  you.    Pray  be  patient — and 


14  BLIND  LOVE 

on  no  account  apply  for  advice  or  protection 
to  the  police.' 

'  Those  last  words,'  Sir  Giles  declared,  '  are 
conclusive !  The  sooner  I  am  under  the  care 
of  the  law  the  better.  Take  my  card  to  tlie 
police-office.' 

'  May  I  say  a  word  first,  sir  ? ' 

'  Do  you  mean  that  you  don't  agree  with 
me? ' 

'  I  mean  that.' 

'You  were  always  an  obstinate  man, 
Dennis  ;  and  it  grows  on  you  as  you  get 
older.  Never  mind !  Let's  have  it  out. 
Who  do  you  say  is  the  person  pointed  at  in 
these  rascally  letters  ?  ' 

The  head  clerk  took  up  the  first  letter  of 
the  two,  and  pointed  to  the  opening  sentence  : 
'Sir  Giles  Mountjoy, — I  have  a  disclosure  to 
make  in  which  one  of  the  members  of  your 
family  is  seriously  interested.'  Dennis  em- 
phatically repeated   the  words :    *  one  of  the 


THE  PROLOGUE  15 

members  of  your  family.'  Ilis  employer  re- 
garded liim  with  a  broad  stare  of  astonisli- 
ment. 

'  One  of  the  members  of  my  family  ?  '  Sir 
Giles  repeated,  on  liis  side.  'Why,  man 
alive,  what  are  you  thinking  of?  I'm  an  old 
bachelor,  and  I  haven't  got  a  family.' 

'  There  is  your  brother,  sir.' 

'  My  brother  is  in  France — out  of  the  way 
of  the  wretches  who  are  threatening  me.  I 
wish  I  was  with  him  ! ' 

'There  are  your  brother's  two  sons,  Sir 
Giles.' 

'  Well  ?  And  what  is  there  to  be  afraid  of? 
My  nephew,  Hugh,  is  in  London — and,  mind  ! 
not  on  a  pohtical  errand.  I  hope,  before 
long,  to  hear  that  he  is  going  to  be  married 
— if  the  strangest  and  nicest  girl  in  England 
will  have  him.     What's  wrong  now  ? ' 

Dennis  explained.  '  I  only  wished  to  say, 
sir,  that  I  was  thinking  of  your  other  nephew.' 


J 6  IBLIND  LOVE 

Sir  Giles  laughed.  '  Arthur  in  danger  ! ' 
he  exclaimed.  'As  harmless  a  young  man  as 
ever  lived.  The  worst  one  can  say  of  him  is 
that  he  is  throwing  away  his  money — farming 
in  Kerry.' 

"  Excuse  me,  Sir  Giles ;  there's  not  much 
chance  of  his  throwing  away  liis  money, 
where  he  is  now.  Nobody  will  venture  to 
take  his  money.  I  met  with  one  of  ]\Ir. 
Arthur's  neighbours  at  the  market  yesterday. 
Your  nephew  is  boycotted.' 

'  So  much  the  better,'  the  obstinate 
banker  declared.  'He  will  be  cured  of  his 
craze  for  farming  ;  and  he  will  come  back  to 
the  place  I  am  keeping  for  him  in  the  office.' 

'  God  grant  it ! '  the  clerk  said  fervently. 

For  the  moment,  Sir  Giles  was  staggered. 
'  Have  you  heard  something  that  you  haven't 
told  me  yet  ?  '  lie  asked. 

'No,  sir.  I  am  only  bearing  in  mind 
something   v/hich~with  all  respect— I  think 


THE  PROLOGUE  .    ly 

you  have  forgotten.  Tlie  last  tenant  on  that 
bit  of  land  in  Kerry  refused  to  pay  his  rent. 
Mr.  Arthur  has  taken  what  they  call  an 
evicted  farm.  It's  my  firm  belief,'  said  tlie 
head  clerk,  rising  and  speaking  earnestly, 
'  tliat  the  person  who  lias  addressed  those 
letters  to  you  knows  Mr.  Arthur,  and  knows 
he  is  in  danger — and  is  trying  to  save  your 
nephew  (by  means  of  your  influence),  at  the 
risk  of  his  own  life.' 

Sir  Giles  shook  his  head.  '  I  call  that  a 
far-fetched  interpretation,  Dennis.  If  what 
you  say  is  true,  why  didn't  the  writer  of  those 
anonymous  letters  address  himself  to  Arthur, 
instead  of  to  me  ? ' 

'I  gave  it  as  my  opinion  just  now,  sir, 
that  the  writer  of  the  letter  knew  Mr. 
Arthur.' 

'  So  you  did.     And  what  of  that  ? ' 
Dennis  stood  to  his  guns. 
'Anybody  who   is   acquainted   with   Mr. 
VOL.  I.  c 


i8  BLIND  LOVE 

Arthur,'  lie  persisted,  '  knows  that  (witli  all 
sorts  of  good  qualities)  the  young  gentleman 
is  headstrong  and  rash.  If  a  friend  told  him 
he  was  in  danger  on  the  farm,  that  would  be 
enough  of  itself  to  make  him  stop  where  he 
is,  and  brave  it  out.  Whereas  you,  sir,  are 
known  to  be  cautious  and  careful,  and  far- 
seeing  and  discreet.'  He  might  have  added  : 
And  cowardly  and  obstinate,  and  narrow- 
minded  and  inflated  by  stupid  self-esteem. 
But  respect  fcr  his  employer  had  blindfolded 
the  clerk's  observation  for  many  a  long  year 
past.  If  one  man  may  be  born  with  the  heart 
of  a  lion,  another  man  may  be  born  with  the 
mind  of  a  mule.  Dennis's  master  w^as  one  of 
the  other  men. 

'  Very  well  put,'  Sir  Giles  answered  indul- 
gently. '  Time  will  show,  if  such  an  entirely 
unimportant  person  as  my  nephew  Arthur 
is  likely  to  be  assassinated.  That  allusion  to 
one  of  the  members  of  my  family  is  a  mere 


THE  PROLOGUE  19 

equivocation,  clesignecl  to  throw  me  oft'  my 
guard.  Eank,  money,  social  influence,  un- 
swerving principles,  mark  me  out  as  a  public 
character.  Go  to  the  police-office,  and  let  the 
best  man  wlio  happens  to  be  oil  duty  come 
here  directly.' 

Good  Dennis  Howmore  approached  the 
door  very  unwillingly.  It  was  opened,  from 
the  outer  side,  before  he  had  reached  that 
end  of  the  room.  One  of  the  bank  porters 
announced  a  visitor. 

'  Miss  Henley  wishes  to  know,  sir,  if  you 
can  see  her.' 

Sir  Giles  looked  agreeably  surprised.  He 
rose  with  alacrity  to  receive  the  lady. 


C  '1 


20  BLIND  LOVE 


III 

;HEN  Iris  Henley  dies  there  will,  in 
all  probability,  be  friends  left  who 
Avill  remember  her  and  talk  of  her 
— and  there  may  be  strangers  present  at  the 
time  (women  for  the  most  part),  whose  curi- 
osity will  put  questions  relating  to  her  per- 
sonal appearance.  No  replies  will  reward 
them  with  trustworthy  information.  Miss 
Henley's  chief  claim  to  admiration  lay  in  a 
remarkable  mobility  of  expression,  which  re- 
flected every  change  of  feeling  pecuhar  to  the 
nature  of  a  sweet  and  sensitive  woman.  For 
this  reason,  probably,  no  descriptions  of  her 
will  agree  with  each  other.  No  existing  hke- 
nesses  will  represent  her.  The  one  portrait 
that  was  painted  of  Iris  is  only  recognisable 


THE  PROLOGUE  21 

by  partial  friends  of  the  artist.  In  and  out  of 
London,  photographic  likenesses  were  taken 
of  lier.  The}^  have  the  honour  of  resembling 
the  portraits  of  Shakespeare  in  this  respect — 
compared  with  one  another,  it  is  not  possible 
to  discover  that  they  present  the  same  person. 
As  for  the  evidence  offered  by  the  loving 
memory  of  her  friends,  it  is  sure  to  be  contra- 
dictory in  the  last  degree.  She  had  a  charm- 
ing face,  a  commonplace  face,  an  intelligent 
face — a  poor  complexion,  a  delicate  com- 
plexion, no  complexion  at  all — eyes  that  were 
expressive  of  a  hot  temper,  of  a  bright  intel- 
lect, of  a  firm  character,  of  an  affectionate 
disposition,  of  a  truthful  nature,  of  hysterical 
sensibility,  of  inveterate  obstinacy — a  figure 
too  short  ;  no,  just  the  right  height ;  no, 
neither  one  thing  nor  the  other  ;  elegant,  if 
you  like — dress  shabby  :  oh,  surely  not ;  dress 
quiet  and  simple  ;  no,  something  more  than 
that ;  ostentatiously  quiet,  theatrically  simple, 


22  BLIND  LOVE 

worn  with  the  object  of  lookmg  imhke  other 
people.  In  one  last  word,  was  this  mass  of 
contradictions  generally  popular,  in  the  time 
when  it  was  a  living  creature  ?  Yes — among 
the  men.  No — not  invariably.  The  man  of 
all  others  who  ought  to  have  been  fondest 
of  her  was  the  man  who  behaved  cruelly  to 
Iris — her  own  father.  And,  when  the  poor 
creature  married  (if  she  did  marry),  how 
many  of  you  attended  the  wedding  ?  Xot 
one  of  us  !  And  when  she  died,  how  many  of 
you  were  sorry  for  her  ?  All  of  us  !  What  ? 
no  difference  of  opinion  in  that  one  parti- 
cular? On  the  contrary,  perfect  concord, 
thank  God. 

Let  the  years  roll  back,  and  let  Iris  speak 
for  herself,  at  the  memorable  time  when  she 
was  in  the  prime  of  her  life,  and  when  a 
stormy  career  was  before  lier. 


THE  PROLOGUE  23 


IV 

EING  Miss  Henley's  godfather,  Sir 
Giles  was  a  privileged  person. 
He  laid  his  hairy  hands  on  her 
shoulders,  and  kissed  her  on  either  cheek. 
After  that  prefatory  act  of  endearment,  he 
made  his  inquiries.  What  extraordinary 
combination  of  events  had  led  Iris  to  leave 
London,  and  had  brought  her  to  visit  him  in 
his  banking-house  at  Ardoon  ? 

'  I  wanted  to  get  away  from  home,'  she 
answered  ;  '  and  having  nobody  to  go  to  but 
my  godfather,  I  thought  I  should  like  to  see 
You.' 

'  Alone  ! '  cried  Sir  Giles. 

'No — with  my  maid  to  keep  me  com- 
pany.' 


54  BLIND  LOVE 

'  Only  your  maid,  Iris  ?  Surely  you  have 
acquaintances  among  young  ladies  like  your- 
self?' 

'Acquaintances — yes.     No  friends.' 

*Does  your  father  approve  of  what  you 
have  done  ? ' 

'  Will  you  grant  me  a  favour,  godpapa  ?  ' 

'  Yes — if  I  can.' 

'  Don't  insist  on  my  answering  your  last 
question.' 

The  faint  colour  that  had  risen  in  her 
face,  when  she  entered  the  room,  left  it.  At 
the  same  time,  the  expression  of  her  mouth 
altered.  The  Hps  closed  firmly  ;  revealing 
that  strongest  of  all  resolutions  which  is 
founded  on  a  keen  sense  of  wrong.  Slie 
looked  older  than  her  age :  what  she  might 
be  ten  years  hence,  she  was  now.  Sir  Giles 
understood  her.  He  got  up,  and  took  a  turn 
in  the  room.  An  old  habit,  of  which  he  had 
cured  himself  with  infinite  difficulty  when  he 


THE  PROLOGUE  2$ 

was  made  a  Knight,  showed  itself  again.     He 
put  his  hands  in  his  pockets. 

'  You  and  your  father  have  had  another 
quarrel,'  he  said,  stopping  opposite  Iris. 

*I  don't  deny  it,'  she  replied. 

'  Who  is  to  blame  ?  ' 

She  smiled  bitterly.  '  The  woman  is 
always  to  blame.' 

'  Did  your  father  tell  you  that  ?  ' 

'My  father  reminded  me  that  I  was 
twenty-one  years  old,  last  birthday — and  told 
me  that  I  could  do  as  I  liked.  I  understood 
him,  and  I  left  the  house.' 

'  You  will  go  back  again,  I  suppose  ?  ' 

'  I  don't  know.' 

Sir  Giles  began  pacing  the  room  once 
more.  His  rugged  face,  telling  its  story  of 
disaster  and  struggle  in  early  life,  showed 
signs  of  disappointment  and  distress. 

'  Hugh  promised  to  write  to  me,'  he  said, 
'  and  he  has  not  written.     I  know  what  that 


26  BLIND  LOVE 

means ;  I  know  wliat  you  have  done  to  offend 
your  father.  My  nephew  has  asked  you  to 
marry  hhn  for  the  second  thne.  And  for  the 
second  time  you  have  refused.' 

Her  face  softened  ;  its  better  and  younger 
aspect  revived.  '  Yes,'  she  said,  sadly  and 
submissively  ;  '  I  have  refused  him  again.' 

Sir  Giles  lost  his  temper.  '  What  the  devil 
is  your  objection  to  Hugh  .^ '  he  burst  out. 

'My  father  said  the  same  thing  to  me,'  she 
replied,  '  almost  in  the  same  words.  I  made 
him  angry  when  I  tried  to  give  my  reason. 
I  don't  want  to  make  you  angry,  too.' 

He  took  no  notice  of  this.  '  Isn't  Hugh  a 
good  fellow  ?  '  he  went  on.  '  Isn't  he  affec- 
tionate ?  and  kindhearted  ?  and  honourable  ? 
— aye,  and  a  handsome  man  too,  if  you  come 
to  that.' 

'  Hugh  is  all  that  you  say.  I  like  him  ;  I 
admire  him  ;  I  owe  to  his  kindness  some  of 
the  liappiest  days  of  my  sad  life,  and  I  am 


THE  PROLOGUE  27 

grateful — oli,  with  all  my  heart,  I  am  grateful 
to  Hugh ! ' 


If  that's  true,  Iris- 


'  Every  word  of  it  is  true.' 

'  I  say,  if  that's  true — there's  no  excuse  for 
3'ou.  I  hate  perversity  in  a  young  woman ! 
Why  don't  you  marry  him  ? ' 

'  Try  to  feel  for  me,'  she  said  gently ;  '  I 
can't  love  him.' 

Her  tone  said  more  to  the  banker  than 
her  words  liad  expressed.  The  secret  sorrow 
of  her  life,  which  was  known  to  her  father, 
was  known  also  to  Sir  Giles. 

'  Xow  we  have  come  to  it  at  last ! '  he  said. 
'  You  can't  love  my  nephew  Hugh.  And  you 
won't  tell  me  the  reason  wh}^  because  your 
sweet  temper  shrinks  from  making  me  angry. 
Shall  I  mention  the  reason  for  you,  my 
dear  ?  I  can  do  it  in  two  words — Lord 
Harry.' 

She  made  no  reply  ;  she  showed  no  sign  of 


aS  BLIND  LOVE 

feeling  what  he  had  just  said.  Her  head  sank 
a  little  ;  her  hands  clasped  themselves  on  her 
lap  ;  the  obstinate  resignation  which  can  sub- 
mit to  anything  hardened  her  face,  stiffened 
her  figure — and  that  was  all. 

The  banker  was  determined  not  to  spare 
her. 

*  It's  easy  to  see,'  he  resumed,  '  that  you 
have  not  got  over  your  infatuation  for  that 
vagabond  yet.  Go  where  he  may,  into  tlie 
vilest  places  and  among  the  lowest  people, 
he  carries  your  heart  along  with  him.  I 
wonder  you  are  not  ashamed  of  such  an 
attachment  as  that.' 

He  had  stung  her  at  last.  She  roused 
herself,  and  answered  him. 

'  Harry  has  led  a  wild  life,'  she  said  ;  '  he 
has  committed  serious  faults,  and  he  may  live 
to  do  worse  than  he  lias  done  yet.  To  what 
degradation,  bad  company,  and  a  bad  bring- 
ing up  may  yet  lead  him,  I  leave  his  enemies 


THE  PROLOGUE  29 

to  foresee.  But  I  tell  you  this,  he  has  redeem- 
ing qualities  which  you,  and  people  like  you, 
are  not  good  Christians  enough  to  discover. 
He  has  friends  who  can  still  appreciate  him — 
your  nephew,  Arthur  Mountjoy,  is  one  of  them. 
Oh,  I  know  it  by  Arthur's  letters  to  me ! 
Blame  Lord  Harry  as  you  may,  I  tell  you  he 
has  the  capacity  for  repentance  in  him,  and  one 
day — when  it  is  too  late,  I  dare  say — he  will 
show  it.  I  can  never  be  his  wife.  We  are 
parted,  never  in  all  likelihood  to  meet  again. 
Well !  he  is  the  only  man  whom  I  have  ever 
loved  ;  and  he  is  the  only  man  whom  I  ever 
shall  love.  If  3^ou  think  this  state  of  mind 
proves  that  I  am  as  bad  as  he  is,  I  won't  contra- 
dict you.  Do  we  any  of  us  know  how  bad  we 
are  ? — Have  you  heard  of  Harry  lately  ? ' 

The  sudden  transition,  from  an  earnest 
and  devoted  defence  of  the  man,  to  an  easy 
and  famihar  inquiry  about  him,  startled  Sir 
Giles. 


30  BLIND  LOVE 

For  the  moment  lie  had  nothing  to  say  ;  Iris 
had  made  him  think.  She  had  shown  a  capa- 
city for  mastering  her  strongest  feehngs,  at  the 
moment  when  they  threatened  to  overcome  her, 
which  is  very  rarely  found  in  a  young  woman. 
How  to  manage  her  was  a  problem  for  patient 
resolution  to  solve.  The  banker's  obstinacy, 
rather  than  his  conviction,  had  encouraged 
him  to  hold  to  the  hope  of  Hugh's  marriage, 
even  after  his  nephew  had  been  refused  for 
the  second  time.  His  headstrong  goddaughter 
had  come  to  visit  him  of  her  own  accord. 
She  had  not  forgotten  the  days  of  her  child- 
hood, when  he  had  some  influence  over  her — 
when  she  had  found  him  kinder  to  her  than 
her  father  had  ever  been.  Sir  Giles  saw  that 
he  had  taken  the  wrong  tone  with  Iris.  His 
anger  had  not  alarmed  her  ;  liis  opinion  had 
not  influenced  her.  In  Hugh's  interests  he 
determined    to   try   what   consideration    and 


THE  PROLOGUE 


31 


indulgence  would  do  towards  cultivating  the 
growtli  of  lier  regard  for  him.  Finding  that 
she  had  left  her  maid  and  her  lu2f<]^a(?e  at  tlie 

DO     c 

hotel,  he  hospitably  insisted  on  their  removal 
to  his  own  house. 

'  While  you  are  in  Ardoon,  Iris,  you  are 
my  guest,'  he  said. 

She  pleased  him  by  readily  accepting  the 
invitation — and  then  annoyed  him  by  asking 
again  if  he  had  heard  anything  of  Lord 
Harry. 

He  answered  shortly  and  sliarply  :  '  I  have 
heard  nothing.  What  is  your  last  news  of 
him  ? ' 

'  News,'  she  said,  '  which  I  sincerely  hope 
is  not  true.  An  Irish  paper  has  been  sent  to 
me,  which  reports  that  he  has  joined  the 
secret  society — nothing  better  than  a  society 
of  assassins,  I  am  afraid — which  is  known  by 
the  name  of  the  Invincibles.' 


32  BLIND  LOVE 

As  she  mentioned  that  formidable  brother- 
liood,  Dennis  Howmore  returned  from  the 
poHce-office.  He  announced  that  a  Sergeant 
was  then  waiting  to  receive  instructions  from 
Sir  Giles. 


THE  PROLOGUE  33 


fc 


V 

EIS    rose    to    go.      Her    godfather 
courteously  stopped  her. 

'  Wait  here,'  he  said,  '  until  I 
have  spoken  to  the  Sergeant,  and  I  will  escort 
you  to  my  house.  My  clerk  will  do  what  is 
necessary  at  the  hotel.  You  don't  look  quite 
satisfied.  Is  the  arrangement  that  I  have 
proposed  not  agreeable  to  j^ou  .^  ' 

Iris  assured  him  that  she  gratefully  ac- 
ceded to  the  arrangement.  At  the  same  time, 
she  confessed  to  having  been  a  little  startled 
on  discovering  that  he  was  in  consultation  with 
the  police.  'I  remember  that  we  are  in 
Ireland,'  she  explained,  '  and  I  am  foolish 
enough  to  fear  that  you  may  be  in  some 
danger.  May  I  hope  that  it  is  only  a  trifle  ? ' 
VOL.   I.  p 


34  BLIND  LOVE 

Only  a  trifle  !  Among  otlier  deficient 
sensibilities  in  the  strange  nature  of  Iris,  Sir 
Giles  had  observed  an  imperfect  appreciation 
of  the  dignity  of  his  social  position.  Here  was 
a  new  proof  of  it !  The  temptation  to  inspire 
sentiments  of  alarm— not  unmingled  with 
admiration — in  the  mind  of  his  insensible 
god-danghter,  by  exhibiting  himself  as  a 
public  character  threatened  by  a  conspi- 
racy, was  more  than  the  banker's  vanity 
could  resist.  Before  he  left  the  room,  he  in- 
structed Dennis  to  tell  Miss  Henley  what  had 
happened,  and  to  let  her  judge  for  herself 
whether  he  had  been  needlessly  alarmed 
by  what  she  was  pleased  to  call  '  a  mere 
trifle.' 

Dennis  Howmore  must  have  been  more 
than  mortal,  if  he  could  have  related  his  nar- 
rative of  events  without  being  influenced  by 
his  own  point  of  view.  On  the  first  occasion 
when  he  mentioned  Arthur  Mountjoy's  name 


THE  PROLOGUE  35 

Iris  showed  a  sudden  interest  in  liis  strange 
story  which  took  him  by  surprise. 

'  You  know  Mr.  Artliur  ?  '  he  said. 

'  Know  him  ! '  Iris  repeated.  '  He  was 
my  playfellow  when  we  were  both  children. 
He  is  as  dear  to  me  as  if  he  was  my  brother. 
Tell  me  at  once — is  he  really  in  danger  ?  ' 

Dennis  honestly  repeated  what  he  had 
already  said,  on  that  subject,  to  his  master. 
]\Iiss  Henley,  entirely  agreeing  with  him,  ^v^as 
eager  to  warn  Arthur  of  his  position.  There 
was  no  telegraphic  communication  with  the  vil- 
lage which  was  near  his  farm.  She  could  only 
write  to  him,  and  she  did  write  to  him,  by  that 
day's  post — having  reasons  of  her  own  for 
anxiety,  which  forbade  her  to  show  her  letter 
to  Dennis.  Well  aware  of  the  devoted  friend- 
ship which  united  Lord  Harry  and  Arthur 
Mountjoy — and  bearing  in  mind  tlie  news- 
paper report  of  the  Irish  lord's  rash  association 
with  the  Invincibles — her  fears  now  identified 

D  2 


36  BLIND  LOVE 

the  noble  vagabond  as  tlie  writer  of  the  anony- 
mous letters,  which  had  so  seriously  excited 
her  godfather's  doubts  of  his  own  safety. 

When  Sir  Giles  returned  and  took  her  with 
him  to  liis  house,  he  spoke  of  his  consultation 
with  the  Sergeant  in  terms  which  increased  her 
dread  of  what  might  happen  in  the  future. 
She  was  a  dull  and  silent  guest,  during  the 
interval  that  elapsed  before  it  would  be  pos- 
sible to  receive  Arthur's  reply.  The  day 
arrived — and  the  post  brought  no  relief  to  her 
anxieties.  The  next  day  passed  without  a 
letter.  On  the  morning  of  the  fourth  day. 
Sir  Giles  rose  later  than  usual.  His  correspond- 
ence was  sent  to  him  from  the  office,  at  break- 
fast-time. After  opening  one  of  the  letters,  he 
despatched  a  messenger  in  hot  haste  to  the 
police. 

'  Look  at  that,'  he  said,  handing  tlie  letter 
to  Iris.  '  Does  the  assassin  take  me  for  a 
fool?' 


THE  PROLOGUE  37 

She  read  the  hues  that  follow  : 

'  Unforeseen  events  force  me,  Sir  Giles, 
to  run  a  serious  risk.  I  must  speak  to  you, 
and  it  must  not  be  by  daylight.  My  one  hope 
of  safety  is  in  darkness.  Meet  me  at  the  first 
milestone,  on  the  road  to  Garvan,  when  the 
moon  sets  at  ten  o'clock  to-night.  No  need 
to  mention  your  name.  The  password  is : 
Fidelity' 

'  Do  you  mean  to  go  .^ '  Iris  asked. 

'  Do  I  mean  to  ])e  murdered  ! '  Sir  Giles 
broke  out.  *  My  dear  child,  do  pray  try  to 
think  before  you  speak.  The  Sergeant  will 
represent  me,  of  course.' 

'  And  take  the  man  prisoner  ?  '  Iris  added. 

'  Certainly ! ' 

With  that  startling  reply,  the  banker  hur- 
ried away  to  receive  tlie  police  in  another 
room.  Iris  dropped  into  the  nearest  chair. 
The  turn  that  the  affair  had  now  taken  filled 
her  with  unutterable  dismay. 


38  BLIND  LOVE 

Sir  Giles  came  back,  after  no  very  long 
absence,  composed  and  smiling.  Tlie  course 
of  proceeding  had  been  settled  to  his  complete 
satisfaction. 

Dressed  in  private  clothes,  tlie  Sergeant 
was  to  go  to  the  milestone  at  the  appointed 
time,  representing  the  banker  in  the  darkness, 
and  giving  the  password.  He  was  to  be 
followed  by  two  of  his  men  who  would  wait 
in  concealment,  witliin  hearing  of  liis  whistle, 
if  their  services  were  required.  '  I  want  to 
see  the  ruffian  wlien  he  is  safely  handcufFed,' 
Sir  Giles  explained  ;  '  and  I  have  arranged  to 
wait  for  the  police,  to-night,  at  my  office.' 

There  was  but  one  desperate  way  that  Iris 
could  now  discern  of  saving  the  man  who  had 
confided  in  her  godfather's  honour,  and  whose 
trust  had  already  been  betrayed.  Never  had 
she  loved  the  outlawed  Irish  lord — the  man 
whom  she  was  forbidden,  and  rightly  for- 
bidden, to  marry — as  she  loved  him  at  that 


THE   PROLOGUE  39 

moment.  Let  the  risk  be  what  it  miglit,  this 
resolute  woman  had  determined  that  the 
Sergeant  should  not  be  the  only  person  who 
arrived  at  the  milestone,  and  gave  the  pass- 
word. There  was  one  devoted  friend  to  Lord 
Harry,  whom  she  could  always  trust — and 
that  friend  was  herself. 

Sir  Giles  withdrew,  to  look  after  his  busi- 
ness at  the  bank.  She  waited  until  the  clock 
liad  struck  the  servants'  dinner  hour,  and 
then  ascended  tlie  stairs  to  her  godfather's 
dressing-room.  Opening  his  wardrobe,  she 
discovered  in  one  part  of  it  a  large  Spanish 
cloak,  and,  in  another  part,  a  liigh-crowned 
felt  hat  which  lie  wore  on  his  country  ex- 
cursions. Li  the  dark,  here  was  disguise 
enough  for  her  purpose. 

As  she  left  the  dressing-room,  a  measure 
of  precaution  occurred  to  her,  wdiicli  she  put 
in  action  at  once.  Telling  her  maid  that  she 
had  some  purchases  to  make  in  the  town,  she 


40  J3LIND  LOVE 

went  out,  and  asked  her  way  to  Garvan  of  the 
first  respectable  stranger  whom  she  met  m  the 
street.  Her  object  was  to  walk  as  far  as  the 
first  milestone,  in  daylight,  so  as  to  be  sure  of 
finding  it  again  by  night.  She  had  made  her- 
self familiar  with  the  different  objects  on  the 
road,  when  she  returned  to  tlie  banker's 
house. 

As  the  time  for  the  arrest  drew  nearer,  Sir 
Giles  became  too  restless  to  wait  patiently  at 
home.  He  went  away  to  the  police-office, 
eager  to  hear  if  any  new  counter-conspiracy 
had  occurred  to  the  authorities. 

It  was  dark  soon  after  eight  o'clock,  at 
that  time  of  the  year.  At  nine  the  servants 
assembled  at  the  supper-table.  They  were 
all  downstairs  together,  talking,  and  waiting 
for  their  meal. 

Feeling  the  necessity  of  arriving  at  the 
place  of  meeting  in  time  to  keep  out  of  the 
Serjeant's  wav,  Iris  assumed  her  diss^uise  as 


THE  PROLOGUE  41 

the  clock  struck  nine.  She  left  the  house 
without  a  living  creature  to  notice  her,  in- 
doors or  out.  Clouds  were  gathering  over 
tlie  sky.  The  waning  moon  was  only  to  be 
seen  at  intervals,  as  she  set  forth  on  her  Avay 
to  the  milestone. 


42 


BLIND  LOVE 


YI 


HE  wind  rose  a 
little,  and  the 
rifts  in  the  clouds 
began  to  grow 
broader  as  Iris 
gained  the  high 
road. 

For  awhile 
the  ghnnner 
of  the  misty 
moonliglit  lit 
the  way  before  her.  As  well  as  she  could 
guess,  she  had  passed  over  more  than  lialf 
of  the  distance  between  the  town  and  the 
milestone  before  the  sky  darkened  ao-ain.     Ob- 


THE   PROLOGUE  43 

jects  by  the  wayside  grew  sliaclowy  and 
dim.  A  few  drops  of  rain  began  to  fall. 
The  milestone,  as  she  knew — thanks  to  the 
discovery  of  it  made  by  daylight — was  on 
the  right-hand  side  of  the  road.  But  the  dull 
grey  colour  of  tlie  stone  was  not  easy  to  see 
in  the  dark. 

A  doubt  troubled  her  whether  she  might 
not  have  passed  the  milestone.  She  stopped 
and  looked  at  the  sky. 

The  threatening  of  rain  had  passed  away  ; 
signs  showed  themselves  which  seemed  to 
promise  another  break  in  the  clouds.  She 
waited.  Low  and  faint,  the  sinkino-  moonliizlit 
looked  its  last  at  the  dull  earth.  In  front  of 
her  there  was  nothing  to  be  seen  but  the 
road.  She  looked  back — and  discovered  the 
milestone. 

A  rough  stone  wall  protected  the  land  on 
either  side  of  the  road.  Nearly  behind  the 
milestone  there  was  a  gap  in  this  fence,  par- 


44  BLIND  LOVE 

tially  closed  by  a  hurdle.  A  half-ruined  cul- 
vert, arching  a  ditch  that  had  run  dry,  formed 
a  bridge  leading  from  the  road  to  the  field. 
Had  the  field  been  already  chosen  as  a  place 
of  concealment  by  the  police  ?  Nothing  was 
to  be  seen  but  a  footpath,  and  the  dusky  line 
of  a  plantation  beyond  it.  As  she  made  these 
discoveries,  the  rain  began  to  fall  again  ;  the 
clouds  gathered  once  more  ;  the  moonlight 
vanished. 

At  the  same  moment  an  obstacle  presented 
itself  to  her  mind,  which  Iris  had  thus  far 
failed  to  foresee. 

Lord  Harry  might  approach  the  milestone 
by  three  different  ways  :  tliat  is  to  say — by 
the  road  from  tlie  town,  or  by  the  road  from 
the  open  country,  or  by  way  of  the  field  and 
the  culvert.  How  could  she  so  place  herself 
as  to  be  sure  of  warnins^  him,  before  he  fell 
into  the  liands  of  tlie  police  ?  To  watch  the 
three  means  of  approach  in  the  obscurity  of 


THE  PROLOGUE  45 

the  night,  and  at  one  and  the  same  time,  was 
impossible. 

A  man  in  this  position,  guided  by  reason, 
would  in  all  probability  have  wasted  precious 
time  in  trying  to  arrive  at  the  rig] it  decision. 
A  woman,  aided  b}'  love,  conquered  tlie  diffi- 
culty that  confronted  her  in  a  moment. 

Iris  decided  on  returnino-  to  the  milestone, 
and  on  waiting  there  to  be  discovered  and 
taken  prisoner  by  the  police.  Suj)posing 
Lord  Harry  to  be  punctual  to  his  appoint- 
ment, he  would  hear  voices  and  movements, 
as  a  necessary  consequence  of  the  arrest,  in 
time  to  make  his  escape.  Supposing  him  on 
the  other  hand  to  be  late,  the  police  would  be 
on  the  way  back  to  the  town  with  their 
prisoner  :  he  would  find  no  one  at  the  mile- 
stone, and  would  leave  it  again  in  safety. 

She  was  on  the  point  of  turning,  to  get 
back  to  the  road,  when  something  on  the 
dark  surface  of  the  field,  which  looked  hke  a 


46  BLIND  LOVE 

darker  shadow,  became  dimly  visible.  In  an- 
other moment,  it  seemed  to  be  a  shadow  that 
moved.  She  ran  towards  it.  It  looked  like 
a  man  as  she  drew  nearer.     The  man  stopped. 

'  The  password,'  he  said,  in  tones  cautiously 
lowered. 

'  Fidelity,'  she  answered  in  a  whisper. 

It  was  too  dark  for  a  recognition  of  his 
features  ;  but  Iris  knew  him  by  his  tall 
stature — knew  him  by  the  accent  in  which  he 
had  asked  for  the  password.  Erroneously 
judging  of  her,  on  his  side,  as  a  man,  he  drew 
back  again.  Sir  Giles  Mountjoy  was  above 
the  middle  height ;  the  stranger,  in  a  cloak, 
who  had  whispered  to  him,  was  below  it. 
'  You  are  not  the  person  I  expected  to  meet,' 
he  said.     ^  Who  are  you  ?  ' 

Her  faithful  heart  was  longing  to  tell  him 
the  truth.  The  temptation  to  reveal  herself 
and  to  make  the  sweet  confession  of  her 
happiness  at  having  saved  him,  would  have 


THE   PROLOGUE  47 

overpowered  lier  discretion,  but  for  a  sound 
that  was  audible  on  the  road  behind  them. 
In  the  deep  silence  of  tlie  time  and  place,  mis- 
take was  impossible.  It  was  the  sound  of 
footsteps. 

There  was  just  time  to  whisper  to  him': 
'  Sir  Giles  has  betrayed  you.  Save  your- 
self.' 

'  Thank  you,  whoever  you  are  ! ' 

With  that  reply,  he  suddenly  and  swiftly 
disappeared.  Iris  remembered  the  culvert, 
and  turned  towards  it.  There  was  a  hidinix- 
place  under  the  arch,  if  she  could  only  get 
down  into  the  dry  ditch  in  time.  Slie  was  feel- 
ing her  Avay  to  the  slope  of  it  with  her  feet, 
when  a  heavy  hand  seized  her  by  the 
arm  ;  and  a  resolute  voice  said,  '  You  are 
my  prisoner.' 

She  was  led  back  into  the  road.  The 
man  who  had  got  her  blew  a  whistle.  Two 
other  men  joined  him. 


48  BLIND  LOVE 

'  Show  a  ligiit,'   lie    said ;    '  and   let's   see 
who  the  fellow  is.' 

The  shade  was  slipped  aside  from  a 
lantern  :  the  light  fell  full  on  the  prisoner's 
face.  Amazement  petrified  the  two  attendant 
policemen.  The  pious  Catholic  Sergeant  burst 
into  speech  :  '  Holy  Mary  !  it's  a  woman  ! ' 

Did  the  secret  societies  of  Ireland  enrol 
women?  Was  this  a  modern  Judith,  express- 
infT  herself  by  anonymous  letters,  and  bent  on 
assassinating  a  financial  Holofernes  who  kept 
a  bank  ?  What  account  had  she  to  give  of 
herself?  How  came  she  to  be  alone  in 
a  desolate  field  on  a  rainy  night  ?  Instead 
of  answering  these  questions,  the  inscrutable 
stranger  preferred  a  bold  and  brief  request. 
« Take  me  to  Sir  Giles,'  was  all  she  said  to  the 
police. 

The  Sergeant  had  the  handcuffs  ready. 
After  looking  at  the  prisoner's  delicate  wrists 
by  the  lantern -light,  he  put  his  fetters  b^ck 


THE  PROLOGUE  49 

in  his  pocket.     '  A  lady — and  no  doubt  about 
it,'  he  said  to  one  of  his  assistants. 

The  two  men  waited,  with  a  mischievous 
interest  in  seeing  what  he  would  do  next. 
The  list  of  their  pious  officer's  virtues  in- 
cluded a  constitutional  partiality  for  women, 
wliicli  exhibited  the  mercifid  side  of  justice 
when  a  criminal  wore  a  petticoat.  '  We  will 
take  you  to  Sir  Giles,  miss,'  he  said — and 
offered  his  arm,  instead  of  offering  his  hand- 
cuffs. Iris  understood  him,  and  took  liis 
arm. 

Slie  was  silent— unaccountably  silent  as 
tlie  men  thought — on  the  way  to  the  town. 
They  lieard  her  sigh ;  and,  once,  the  sigh 
sounded  more  like  a  sob  ;  little  did  they  sus- 
pect what  was  in  that  silent  woman's  mind  at 
the  time. 

The  one  object  v/hich  had  absorbed  the 
attention  of  Iris  had  been  the  savino;  of  Lord 
Harry.     This  accomplished,  the  free  exercise 

VOL.    I.  E 


so  BLIND  LOVE 

of  her  memory  had  now  reminded  her  of 
Arthur  Moimtjoy. 

It  was  hnpossible  to  doubt  that  the  object 
of  the  proposed  meeting  at  the  milestone  had 
been  to  take  measures  for  the  preservation 
of  the  young  man's  hfe.  A  coward  is  always 
more  or  less  cruel.  The  proceedings  (equally 
treacherous  and  merciless)  by  which  Sir  Giles 
had  provided  for  his  own  safety,  had  delayed 
— perhaps  actually  prevented — the  execution 
of  Lord  Harry's  humane  design.  It  was 
possible,  horribly  possible,  tliat  a  prompt 
employment  of  time  might  have  been  neces- 
sary to  the  rescue  of  Arthur  from  impending 
death  by  murder.  In  the  agitation  that  over- 
powered her,  Iris  actually  hurried  the  police 
on  their  return  to  the  town. 

Sir  Giles  had  arranged  to  wait  for  news  in 
his  private  room  at  the  office — and  there  he 
was,  with  Dennis  Howmore  in  attendance  to 
receive  visitors. 


THE  PROLOGUE  51 

The  Sergeant  went  into  the  Ijanker's  room 
alone,  to  make  his  report.  He  left  the  door 
ajar  ;  Iris  conld  hear  what  passed. 

'  Have  yon  got  3'onr  prisoner  ?  '  Sir  Giles 
began. 

'  Yes,  your  honour.' 

'  Is  the  wretch  securely  handcuffed  ? ' 

'  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,  it  isn't  a  man.' 

'  Nonsense,  Sergeant ;  it  can't  l)e  a  boy. ' 

The  Sergeant  confessed  that  it  was  not  a 
boy.     '  It's  a  woman,'  he  said. 

'  What ! ! ! ' 

'  A  woman,'  the  patient  officer  repeated — 
'  and  a  young  one.     She  asked  for  You.' 

'  Bring  her  in.' 

Iris  was  not  the  sort  of  person  wlio  waits 
to  be  brought  in.  She  walked  in,  of  her  own 
accord. 


UnSiTY  of  ILLINOIS 


52  BLIND  LOVE 


yii 

'OOD  HEAVENS  ! '  cried  Sir  Giles. 
'  Iris  !  With  my  cloak  on ! ! 
With  my  hat  in  her  hand !  !  ! 
Sergeant,  there  has  been  some  dreadfid  mis- 
take.   This  is  my  goddaughter — Miss  Henley.' 

'We  found  her  at  the  milestone,  your 
honour.     The  young  lady,  and  nobody  else.' 

Sir  Giles  appealed  helplessly  to  his  god- 
daughter. '  What  does  this  mean  ?  '  Instead 
of  answering,  she  looked  at  the  Sergeant. 
The  Sergeant,  conscious  of  responsibility, 
stood  his  ground  and  looked  at  Sir  Giles.  His 
face  confessed  that  the  Irish  sense  of  humour 
was  tickled  ;  but  he  showed  no  intention  of 
leaving  the  room.  Sir  Giles  saw  tluit  Iris 
would  enter  into  no  explanation  in  the  man's 


THE  PROLOGUE  53 

presence.  '  You  needn't  wait  any  longer,'  he 
said. 

'  What  am  I  to  do,  if  you  please,  with  the 
prisoner  ?  '  the  Sergeant  inquired. 

Sir  Giles  waived  that  unnecessary  question 
away  with  his  hand.  He  was  trebly  respon- 
sible— as  knight,  banker,  and  magistrate  into 
tlie  bargain.  '  I  will  be  answerable,'  he 
replied,  '  for  producing  Miss  Henley,  if  called 
upon.     Good-night.' 

The  Sergeant's  sense  of  duty  was  satisfied. 
He  made  the  military  salute.  His  gallantry 
added  homage  to  the  young  lady  under  the 
form  of  a  bow.  Then,  and  then  only,  he 
walked  with  dignity  out  of  the  room. 

'  Now,'  Sir  Giles  resumed,  '  I  presume  I 
may  expect  to  receive  an  explanation.  What 
does  this  impropriety  mean  ?  What  were  you 
doing  at  the  milestone  ? ' 

'  I  was  saving  the  person  who  made  tlie 
appointment  with  you,'  Iris  said  ;  '  tlie  poor 


54  BLIND  LOVE 

fellow  wlio  had  no  ill-will  towards  you — who 
had  risked  everything  to  save  your  nephew's 
life.  Oh,  sir,  you  committed  a  terrible 
mistake  when  you  refused  to  trust  that 
man ! ' 

Sir  Giles  had  anticipated  the  appearance 
of  fear,  and  the  reality  of  humble  apologies. 
She  had  answered  him  indignantly,  with  a 
heightened  colour,  and  with  tears  in  her  eyes. 
His  sense  of  his  own  social  importance  was 
wounded  to  the  quick.  '  Who  is  the  man  you 
are  speaking  of  ?  '  he  asked  loftily.  '  And 
what  is  your  excuse  for  having  gone  to  the 
milestone  to  save  him — hidden  under  my 
cloak,  disguised  in  my  hat  ?  ' 

'  Don't  waste  precious  time  in  asking  ques- 
tions ! '  was  the  desperate  reply.  '  Undo  the 
harm  that  you  have  done  already.  Your 
help — oh,  I  mean  what  I  say  ! — may  yet 
preserve  Arthur's  life.  Go  to  the  farm,  and 
save  him.' 


THE  PROLOGUE  55 

Sir  Giles's  anger  assumed  a  new  form ;  it 
indulged  in  an  elaborate  mockery  of  respect. 
He  took  ]iis  watcli  from  his  pocket,  and  con- 
sulted it  satirically.  '  Must  I  make  an  excuse  ? ' 
he  asked,  with  a  clumsy  assumption  of 
humility. 

'  No  !  you  must  go.' 

'  Permit  me  to  inform  you,  Miss  Henley, 
that  the  last  train  started  more  than  two 
hours  since.' 

'  What  does  that  matter  ?  You  are  rich 
enough  to  hire  a  train.' 

Sir  Giles,  the  actor,  could  endure  it  no 
longer ;  he  dropped  the  mask,  and  revealed 
Sir  Giles,  the  man.  His  clerk  was  summoned 
by  a  peremptory  ring  of  the  bell.  '  Attend 
Miss  Henley  to  the  house,'  he  said.  '  You 
may  come  to  your  senses  after  a  night's  rest,' 
he  continued,  turning  sternly  to  Iris.  '  I  will 
receive  your  excuses  in  the  morning.' 

In  the  mornini?,  the  breakfast  was  ready 


56  BUND  LOVE 

as  usual    at   nine   o'clock.     Sir   Giles   found 
himself  alone  at  the  table. 

He  sent  an  order  to  one  of  the  women- 
servants  to  knock  at  Miss  Henley's  door. 
There  was  a  long  delay.  The  housekeeper 
presented  herself  in  a  state  of  alarm  ;  she  had 
gone  upstairs  to  make  the  necessary  investi- 
gation in  her  own  person.  Miss  Henley  was 
not  in  her  room  ;  tlie  maid  was  not  in  her 
room ;  the  beds  had  been  slept  in ;  the 
heavy  luggage  was  labelled :  'To  be  called 
for  from  the  hotel.'  And  there  was  an  end 
of  the  evidence  which  the  absent  Iris  had  left 
behind  her. 

Inquiries  were  made  at  the  hotel.  The 
young  lady  had  called  there,  with  her  maid, 
early  on  that  morning.  They  had  their  travel- 
ling-bags with  them  ;  and  Miss  Henley  had  left 
directions  that  the  luggage  was  to  be  placed 
under  care  of  the  landlord  until  hei'  return. 


THE  PROLOGUE  57 

To  what  destination  she  had  betaken  herself 
nobody  knew. 

Sir  Giles  was  too  angry  to  remember  what 
she  had  said  to  him  on  the  previous  night,  or 
he  might  have  guessed  at  the  motive  which 
had  led  to  her  departure.  '  Her  father  has 
done  with  her  already,'  he  said  ;  '  and  I  have 
done  with  her  now.'  The  servants  received 
orders  not  to  admit  Miss  Henley,  if  her 
audacity  contemplated  a  return  to  her  god- 
father's house. 


58  BLIND  LOVE 


VIII 

!N  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day,  Iris 
arrived  at  the  village  situated  in 
the  near  neighbourhood  of  Arthur 
Mountjoy's  farm. 

The  infection  of  political  excitement 
(otherwise,  the  hatred  of  England)  had  spread 
even  to  this  remote  place.  On  the  steps  of 
his  little  chapel,  the  priest,  a  peasant  himself, 
was  haranguing  his  brethren  of  the  soil.  An 
Irishman  Avho  paid  his  landlord  was  a  traitor 
to  his  country  ;  an  Irishman  who  asserted  his 
free  birthright  in  the  land  that  he  walked 
on  was  an  enlightened  patriot.  Such  was 
the  new  law  which  the  reverend  gentleman 
expounded  to  his  attentive  audience.  If  his 
brethren  there   would  like  him  to  tell  them 


THE  PROLOGUE  59 

how  they  might  apply  the  law,  this  exem- 
plary Christian  would  point  to  the  faithless 
Irishman,  Arthur  Mountjoy.  '  Buy  not  of 
him  ;  sell  not  to  him  ;  avoid  him  if  he  ap- 
proaches you  ;  starve  him  out  of  the  place.  I 
might  say  more,  boys — you  know  what  I  mean.' 
To  hear  the  latter  part  of  this  effort  of 
oratory,  without  uttering  a  word  of  protest, 
was  a  trial  of  endurance  under  which  Iris 
trembled.  The  secondary  effect  of  the  priest's 
address  was  to  root  the  conviction  of  Arthur's 
danger  with  tenfold  tenacity  in  her  mind. 
After  what  she  had  just  heard,  even  the 
slightest  delay  in  securing  his  safety  might  be 
productive  of  deplorable  results.  She  aston- 
ished a  barefooted  boy,  on  the  outskirts  of 
the  crowd,  by  a  gift  of  sixpence,  and  asked 
her  way  to  the  farm.  The  little  Irishman  ran 
on  before  her,  eager  to  show  the  generous 
lady  how  useful  he  could  be.  In  less  than 
half  an  hour,  Iris  and  her  maid  were  at  the 


66  BLIND  LOVE 

door  of  the  farm-house.  No  such  civihsed 
inventions  appeared  as  a  knocker  or  a  belL 
The  boy  used  his  knuckles  instead — and  ran 
away  when  he  heard  the  lock  of  the  door 
turned  on  the  inner  side.  He  was  afraid  to 
be  seen  speaking  to  any  living  creature  wlio 
inhabited  tlie  '  evicted  farm.' 

A  decent  old  woman  appeared,  and  in- 
quired suspiciously  '  what  the  ladies  wanted.' 
The  accent  in  which  she  spoke  was  unmis- 
takably English.  When  Iris  asked  for  Mr. 
Arthur  Mountjoy  the  reply  was:  'Not  at 
home.'  The  housekeeper  inhospitably  at- 
tempted to  close  the  door.  '  Wait  one 
moment,'  Iris  said.  'Years  have  changed 
you ;  but  there  is  something  in  your  face 
which  is  not  quite  strange  to  me.  Are  you 
Mrs.  Lewson  ? ' 

The  woman  admitted  that  this  was  lier 
name.  '  But  how  is  it  that  you  are  a  stranger 
to  me  ?  '  she  asked  distrustfully. 


.,/ 


1S^^,I 


i'W^'IllliWrnmtiiiif^;^^"^;;^^ 


Mrs.  Lczusoti  s /ace  brightc7icd  in  an  instant ;  she  thrczv  the  door  wide  open  zvith  a  glad 
cry  of  recognition. 


THE  PROLOGUE  6f 

'If  you  have  been  long  in  Mr.  Mountjoy's 
service,'  Iris  replied,  '  you  rnay  perliaps  liave 
heard  him  speak  of  Miss  Henley  ?  ' 

Mrs.  Lewson's  face  brightened  in  an  in- 
stant ;  she  threw  the  door  wide  open  witli  a 
glad  cry  of  recognition. 

'  Come  in,  miss,  come  in !  Who  would 
have  thought  of  seeing  you  in  this  horrible 
place  ?  Yes  ;  I  was  the  nurse  who  looked 
after  you  all  three  —  when  you  and  Mr. 
Arthur  and  Mr.  Hugh  were  playfellows  to- 
gether.' Her  eyes  rested  longingly  on  her 
favourite  of  bygone  days.  The  sensitive  sym- 
pathies of  Iris  interpreted  that  look.  She 
prettily  touched  her  cheek,  inviting  the  nurse 
to  kiss  her.  At  this  act  of  kindness  the  poor 
old  woman  broke  down :  she  apologised 
quaintly  for  her  tears :  '  Think,  miss,  how  1 
must  remember  that  happy  time — wlien  you 
have  not  forgotten  it.' 

foiiown   into   the  parlour,  the  first  object 


62  BUND  LOVE 

which  the  visitor  noticed  was  the  letter  that 
she  had  written  to  Arthur  lying  unopened  on 
the  table. 

'  Then  he  is  really  out  of  the  house  ? '  she 
said,  with  a  feehng  of  relief. 

He  had  been  away  from  the  farm  for 
a  week  or  more.  Had  he  received  a  warning 
from  some  other  quarter?  and  had  he  wisely 
sought  refuge  in  flight  ?  The  amazement  in 
the  housekeeper's  face,  when  she  heard  these 
questions,  pleaded  for  a  word  of  explanation. 
Iris  acknowledged  without  reserve  the  mo- 
tives which  had  suggested  her  journey,  and 
asked  eagerly  if  she  had  been  mistaken  in 
assuming  that  Arthur  was  in  danger  of  assas- 
sination. 

Mrs.  Lewson  shook  her  head.  Beyond  all 
doubt  tlie  young  master  was  in  danger.  But 
Miss  Iris  ought  to  have  known  his  nature 
better  than  to  suppose  tliat  he  would  beat 
a  retreat,  if  all  the  land-leacruers  in  Ireland 


THE  PROLOGUE  63 

threatened  him  together.  No !  It  was  his 
bold  way  to  hiiigli  at  danger.  He  had  left 
his  farm  to  visit  a  friend  in  the  next  county ; 
and  it  was  shrewdly  guessed  that  a  young 
lady  who  was  staying  in  the  house  was  the 
attraction  wliich  had  kej^t  him  so  long  away. 
'  Anyliow,  he  means  to  come  back  to-mor- 
row,' Mrs.  Lewson  said.  '  I  wish  he  would 
think  better  of  it,  and  make  his  escape  to 
England  while  he  has  the  chance.  If  the 
savages  in  these  parts  must  slioot  somebody, 
I'm  here — an  old  woman  that  can't  last  much 
longer.     Let  tliem  shoot  me.' 

Iris  asked  if  Arthur's  safet}^  was  assured 
in  the  next  county,  and  in  the  house  of  his 
friend. 

'  I  can't  saj^  miss  ;  I  have  never  been  to 
the  house.  He  is  in  danger  if  he  persists  in 
coming  back  to  tlie  farm.  There  are  chances 
of  shooting  him  all  along  his  road  liome.  Oli, 
yes ;  he  knows  it,  poor  dear,  as  well  as  I  do. 


64  BLIND  LOVE 

But,  there ! — men.  like  hiiu  are  sucli  perverse 
creatures.  He  takes  his  rides  just  as  usual. 
No ;  he  won't  hsten  to  an  old  woman  like 
me ;  and  as  for  friends  to  advise  him,  tlie 
only  one  of  them  that  has  darkened  our 
doors  is  a  scamp  who  had  better  liave  kept 
away.  You  may  have  heard  tell  of  him. 
The  old  earl,  his  wicked  father,  used  to  be 
called  by  a  bad  name.  And  the  wild  young 
lord  is  his  father's  true  son.' 

'  Not  Lord  Harry  ?  '  Iris  exclaimed. 

The  outbreak  of  agitation  in  her  tone  and 
manner  was  silently  noticed  by  her  maid. 
The  housekeeper  did  not  attempt  to  conceal 
the  impression  that  had  been  produced  upon 
her.  '  I  hope  you  don't  know  such  a  vaga- 
bond as  thatP'  she  said  very  seriously. 
'  Perhaps  you  are  tliinking  of  his  brother — 
the  eldest  son-~a  respectable  man,  as  I  liave 
been  told  ? ' 

Miss  Henley  passed  over  these  questions 


THE   PROLOGUE  65 

without  notice.  Urged  by  the  interest  in  her 
lover,  whicli  was  now  more  than  ever  an 
interest  beyond  her  control,  she  said  :  '  Is 
Lord  Harry  in  danger,  on  account  of  his 
friend  ? ' 

'  He  has  nothing  to  fear  from  the 
wretches  who  infest  our  part  of  the  country,' 
Mrs.  Lewson  replied.  'Eejoort  says  he's  one 
of  themselves.  The  police — there's  what  his 
young  lordship  has  to  be  afraid  of,  if  all's 
true  that  is  said  about  him.  Anyhow,  when 
lie  paid  his  visit  to  my  master  he  came 
secretly  like  a  thief  in  the  night.  And  I 
heard  Mr.  Artliur,  while  they  were  together 
here  in  the  parlour,  loud  in  blaming  him  for 
something  that  he  had  done.  No  more.  Miss, 
of  Lord  Harry  !  I  have  something  particular 
to  say  to  you.  Suppose  I  promise  to  make 
you  comfortable — will  you  please  wait  here 
till  to-morrow,  and  see  Mr.  Arthur  and  speak 

VOL.    J.  F 


C6  BLIND  LOVE 

to  him  ?  If  there's  a  person  Hving  who  can 
persuade  him  to  take  better  care  of  himself,  I 
do  beheve  it  will  be  you.' 

Iris  readily  consented  to  wait  for  Arthur 
Mountjoy's  return.  Left  together,  while  Mrs. 
Lewson  was  attending  to  her  domestic  duties, 
the  mistress  noticed  an  appearance  of  pre- 
occupation in  the  maid's  face. 

'Are  you  beginning  to  wish,  Ehoda,'  she 
said,  '  that  I  had  not  brought  you  to  this 
strange  place,  among  these  wild  people  ? ' 

The  maid  was  a  quiet  amiable  girl,  evi- 
dently in  delicate  health.  She  smiled  faintly. 
'  I  was  thinking.  Miss,  of  another  nobleman 
besides  the  one  Mrs.  Lewson  mentioned  just 
now,  who  seems  to  liave  led  a  reckless  life. 
It  was  printed  in  a  newspaper  that  I  read 
before  we  left  London.' 

'  Was  his  name  mentioned  ?  '  Iris  asked. 

'  No,  Miss  ;  I  suppose  they  were  afraid  of 
giving   offence.      He    tried  so    many  strange 


THE  PROLOGUE  67 

ways  of  getting  a  living — it  was  almost  like 
reading  a  story-book.' 

The  suppression  of  the  name  suggested  a 
suspicion  from  which  Iris  recoiled.  Was  it 
possible  that  her  maid  could  be  ignorantly 
alluding  to  Lord  Harry  ? 

'Do  you  remember  this  hero's  adven- 
tures ? '  she  said. 

'  I  can  try,  Miss,  if  you  wish  to  hear  about 
him.' 

The  newspaper  narrative  appeared  to 
have  produced  a  vivid  impression  on  Ehoda's 
mind.  Making;  allowance  for  natural  hesita- 
tions  and  mistakes,  and  difficulties  in  expres- 
sing herself  correctly,  she  repeated  with  a 
singularly  clear  recollection  the  substance  of 
what  she  had  read. 


P2 


68  BLIND  LOVE 


IX 

I  HE  principal  characters  in  the  story 
were  an  old  Irish  nobleman,  who 
was  called  tlie  Earl,  and  the 
youngest  of  his  two  sons,  mysteriously  distin- 
guished as  '  the  wild  lord.' 

It  was  said  of  the  Earl  that  he  had  not 
been  a  good  father  ;  he  had  cruelly  neglected 
both  his  sons.  The  younger  one,  badly 
treated  at  school,  and  left  to  himself  in  the 
holidays,  began  his  adventurous  career  by 
running  away.  lie  got  employment  (under 
an  assumed  name)  as  a  ship's  boy.  At  the 
outset,  he  did  well ;  learning  his  work,  and 
being  liked  by  the  Captain  and  the  crew. 
But  the  chief  unite  was  a  brutal  man,  and  the 


THE  PROLOGUE  69 

youDg   runaway's  quick  temper  resented  the 
disgraceful  infliction  of  blows.     He  made  up 
liis  mind  to  try  his  luck  on  shore,  and  at- 
tached  himself    to    a   company   of    strolling 
players.     Being  a  handsome  lad,  with  a  good 
figure  and  a  fine  clear  voice,  he  did  very  well 
for  a  while  on  the  country  stage.    Hard  times 
came  ;  salaries  were  reduced  ;  the  adventurer 
wearied  of  the  society  of  actors  and  actresses. 
His  next  change  of  life  presented  him  in  North 
Britain  as  a  journalist,  employed  on  a  Scotch 
newspaper.      An   unfortunate   love-affair  was 
the  means  of  depriving  him  of  this  new  occu- 
pation.    He  was  recognised,  soon  afterwards, 
serving    as    assistant-steward   in   one   of    the 
passenger  steamers  voyaging  between  Liver- 
pool and  New  York.     Arrived  in  this  last  city, 
he  obtained  notoriety,  of  no  very  respectable 
kind,  as  a  '  medium  '  claiming  powers  of  super- 
natural   communication    with    the  world   of 
spirits.     When  the  imposture  was  idtimately 


70  BLIND  LOVE 

discovered,  he  had  gamed  money  by  his  un- 
worthy appeal  to  the  meanly  prosaic  super- 
stition of  modern  times.  A  long  interval  had 
then  elapsed,  and  nothing  had  been  heard  of 
him,  when  a  starving  man  was  discovered  by 
a  traveller  lost  on  a  Western  prairie.  The  ill- 
fated  Irish  lord  had  associated  himself  with 
an  Indian  tribe — had  committed  some  offence 
against  their  laws — and  had  been  deliberately 
deserted  and  left  to  die.  On  his  recovery,  he 
wrote  to  his  elder  brother  (who  had  inherited 
the  title  and  estates  on  the  death  of  the  old 
Earl)  to  say  that  he  was  ashamed  of  the  life  that 
he  had  led,  and  eager  to  make  amendment  by 
accepting  any  honest  employment  that  could 
be  offered  to  him.  The  traveller  who  had 
saved  his  life,  and  whose  opinion  was  to  be 
trusted,  declared  that  the  letter  represented 
a  sincerely  penitent  state  of  mind.  There  were 
good  qualities  in  the  vagabond,  which  only 
wanted   a   little   merciful    encouragement  to 


THE  PROLOGUE  71 

assert  themselves.  The  reply  that  he  received 
from  England  came  from  the  lawyers  employed 
by  the  new  Earl.  They  had  arranged  with 
their  agents  in  Xew  York  to  pay  to  the  yonnger 
brother  a  legacy  of  a  thousand  pounds,  wliich 
represented  all  that  had  been  left  to  ]um  by 
his  father's  will.  If  he  wrote  again,  his  letters 
Avould  not  be  answered  ;  his  brother  had  done 
with  him.  Treated  in  this  inhuman  manner, 
the  wild  lord  became  once  more  worthy  of  his 
name.  He  tried  a  new  hfe  as  a  betting  man  at 
races  and  trotting-matches.  Fortune  favoured 
him  at  the  outset,  and  he  considerably  increased 
his  legacy.  Witli  the  customary  infatuation 
of  men  who  gain  money  by  risking  the  loss 
of  it,  he  presumed  on  his  good  luck.  One 
pecuniary  disaster  followed  another,  and  left 
him  literally  penniless.  He  was  found  again, 
in  England  ;  exhibiting  an  open  boat,  in  which 
he  and  a  companion  had  made  one  of  those 
foolhardy    voyages     across      tlie      Atlantic, 


72  BLIND  LOVE 

which  have  now  happily  ceased  to  interest  the 
pubhc.  To  a  fiicncl  who  remonstrated  with 
him,  he  answered  that  he  had  reckoned  on  being 
lost  at  sea,  and  on  so  committing  a  suicide 
worthy  of  the  desperate  life  that  he  had  led. 
The  last  accounts  of  him,  after  this,  were  too 
vague  and  too  contradictory  to  be  depended 
on.  At  one  time  it  was  reported  that  he  had 
returned  to  the  United  States.  Not  long  after- 
wards, unaccountable  paragraphs  appeared 
in  newspapers,  declaring,  at  one  and  the  same 
time,  that  he  was  living  among  bad  company 
in  Paris,  and  that  he  was  hiding  disreputably 
in  an  ill-famed  quarter  of  the  city  of  Dublin, 
called  '  The  Liberties.'  In  any  case,  there  was 
good  reason  to  fear  that  Irish-American 
desperadoes  had  entangled  the  wild  lord  in  the 
network  of  political  conspiracy. 

The  maid  noticed  a  change  in  the  mistress 
which  surprised  her,  when  she  had  reached 


THE  PROLOGUE  t>> 

the  end  of  the  newspaper  story.  Of  Miss 
Henley's  customary  good  spirits  not  a  trace 
remained.  '  Few  people,  Ehoda,  remember 
wliat  they  read  as  well  as  you  do.'  She  said 
it  kindly  and  sadly — and  she  said  no  more. 

There  was  a  reason  for  this. 

Xow  at  one  time,  and  now  at  another,  Iris 
liad  heard  of  Lord  Harry's  faults  and  faiUngs 
in  fragments  of  family  history.  The  complete 
record  of  his  degraded  life,  presented  in  an 
uninterrupted  succession  of  events,  had  now 
forced  itself  on  her  attention  for  the  first  time. 
It  naturally  shocked  her.  She  felt,  as  she  had 
never  felt  before,  how  entirely  right  her  father 
had  been  in  insisting  on  her  resistance  to  an 
attachment  which  was  unworthy  of  her.  So 
far,  but  no  farther,  her  conscience  yielded 
to  its  own  conviction  of  what  was  just.  But 
the  one  unassailable  vital  force  in  this  world 
is  the  force  of  love.  It  may  submit  to  the 
hard  necessities  of  life  ;  it  may  acknowledge 


74  BLIND  LOVE 

the  imperative  claims  of  duty  ;  it  Diay  be  silent 
under  reproach,  and  submissive  to  privation — 
but,  suffer  what  it  may,  it  is  the  master-passion 
still,  subject  to  no  artificial  influences,  owning 
no  supremacy  but  the  law  of  its  own  being. 
Iris  was  above  the  reach  of  self-reproach, 
when  her  memory  recalled  the  daring  action 
which  had  saved  Lord  Harry  at  the  milestone. 
Her  better  sense  acknowledged  Hugli  Mount- 
joy's  superiority  over  the  otlier  man — but  her 
heart,  her  perverse  heart,  remained  true  to  its 
first  choice  in  spite  of  her.  She  made  an  im- 
patient excuse,  and  went  out  alone,  to  recover 
her  composure  in  the  farm-house  garden. 

The  hours  of  the  evening  passed  slowly. 

There  was  a  pack  of  cards  in  the  house ; 
the  women  tried  to  amuse  themselves,  and 
failed.  Anxiety  about  Arthur  preyed  on 
the  spirits  of  Miss  Henley  and  Mrs.  Lewson. 
Even  the  maid,  who  had  only  seen  him  during 
his  last  visit  to  London,  said  she  wished  to- 


THE  PROLOGUE  75 

morrow  liad  come  and  gone.  Ilis  sweet 
temper,  his  handsome  face,  his  Hvely  talk  had 
made  Arthur  a  favourite  everywhere.  Mrs. 
Lewson  had  left  her  comfortable  English  home 
to  be  his  housekeeper,  when  he  tried  his  rash 
experiment  of  farming  in  Ireland.  And,  more 
wonderful  still,  even  wearisome  Sir  Giles 
became  an  agreeable  person  in  his  nephew's 
company. 

Iris  set  the  example  of  retiring  at  an  early 
hour  to  her  room. 

There  was  something  terrible  in  the  pas- 
toral silence  of  the  place.  It  associated  itself 
mysteriously  with  her  fears  for  Arthur  ;  it 
suggested  armed  treachery  on  tiptoe,  taking 
its  murderous  stand  in  hidincf  ;  the  whistlinfjr 
passage  of  bullets  through  the  air;  tlie  pierc- 
ing cry  of  a  man  mortally  wounded  ;  and  that 

man  perhaps ?    Iris  shrank  from  her  own 

horrid  thought.  A  momentary  faintness 
overcame  her ;  she  opened  the  window.     As 


76  BUND  LOVE 

slie  put  her  head  out  to  breathe  the  cool  night 
air,  a  man  on  horseback  rode  up  to  the  house. 
Was  it  Arthur  ?  Xo :  the  hght-coloured 
groom's  hvery  that  he  wore  was  just  visible. 

Before  he  could  dismount  to  knock  at  the 
door,  a  tall  man  walked  up  to  him  out  of  the 
darkness. 

'Is  that  Miles .^ '  tlie  tall  man  asked. 

The  groom  knew  the  voice.  Iris  was  even 
better  acquainted  with  it.  She,  too,  recog- 
nised  Lord  Harrv.  v 


TIIK   PROLOGUE 


X 


HERE  was 
the    Irish 
lord  —  at 
the    very 
time    when 
Iris         was 
most  patiently 
resigned  never 
to      see      him 
more,  never  to 
tliink    of  him    as 
lier  husband  again 
— reminding     her 
of  the  first  days  of 
their  love,  and  of  their  mutual  confession  of 
it !     Fear  of  herself  kept  her  behind  the  cur- 


79  BLIND  LOVE 

tain ;  wliile  interest  in  Lord  Harry  detained 
her  at  tlie  window  in  hidinc^. 

'  All  well  at  Eathco  P  '  he  asked — men- 
tioning the  name  of  the  house  in  which  Arthur 
was  one  of  the  guests. 

'  Yes,  my  lord.  Mr.  Mountjoy  leaves  us 
to-morrow.' 

'  Does  he  mean  to  return  to  the  farm  .^ ' 

'  Sorry  I  am  to  say  it ;  he  does  mean 
that.' 

'  Has  he  fixed  any  time,  Miles,  for  starting 
on  his  journey  ?  ' 

Miles  instituted  a  search  through  his 
pockets,  and  accompanied  it  by  an  explana- 
tion. Yes,  indeed.  Master  Arthur  had  fixed  a 
time  ;  he  had  written  a  note  to  say  so  to  Mis- 
tress Lewson  the  housekeeper  ;  lie  had  said, 
'  Drop  the  note  at  the  farm,  on  your  way  to  the 
village.'  And  what  might  Miles  want  at  the 
village,  in  the  dark  ?  Medicine,  in  a  hurry, 
for  one  of  his  master's  horses  that  was  sick 


THE  PROLOGUE  78 

and  sinking.  And,  speaking  of  that,  here, 
thank  God,  was  the  note  ! 

Iris,  hstening  and  watching  alternately, 
saw  to  her  surprise  the  note  intended  for  Mrs. 
Lewson  handed  to  Lord  Harry.  '  Am  I  ex- 
pected,' he  asked  jocosely,  '  to  read  writing 
without  a  light  ?  '  Miles  produced  a  small 
lantern  which  was  strapped  to  his  groom's 
belt.  '  There's  parts  of  the  road  not  over  safe 
in  the  dark,'  he  said  as  he  raised  the  shade 
which  guarded  the  light.  The  wild  lord 
coolly  opened  the  letter,  and  read  the  few 
careless  words  which  it  contained.  'To  Mrs. 
Lewson : — Dear  old  girl,  expect  me  back  to- 
morrow to  dinner  at  three  o'clock. — Yours, 
Arthur.' 

There  was  a  pause. 

'  Are  there  any  strangers  at  Eathco  P  ' 
Lord  Harry  asked. 

'  Two  new  men,'  Miles  replied,  '  at  work 
in  the  ^rounds.' 


8o  BLIND  LOVE 

There  was  another  pause.  '  How  can  I 
protect  him  ? '  the  young  lord  said  partly  to 
liimself  partly  to  Miles.  He  suspected  the 
two  new  men — s])ies  ])robably  wlio  knew  of 
Arthur's  proposed  journey  home,  and  -wlio 
liad  already  reported  to  tlieir  employers  the 
hour  at  whicli  he  would  set  out. 

Miles  ventured  to  say  a  word  :  '  I  hope 
you  won't  be  angry  with  me,  my  lord ' 

'  Stuff  and  nonsense  !  Was  I  ever  angry 
with  you,  when  I  was  rich  enough  to  keep  a 
servant,  and  when  you  were  the  man  ? ' 

The  Irish  groom  answered  in  a  voice 
that  trembled  with  strong  feeling.  'You 
were  the  best  and  kindest  master  that  ever 
hved  on  this  eartli.  I  can't  see  you  putting 
your  precious  life  in  peril ' 

'  My  precious  life  ?  '  Lord  Harry  repeated 
lightly.  '  You're  thinking  of  Mr.  Mountjoy, 
when  you  say  tliat.  77/^'  life  is  worth  saving. 
As    for    my   life '      He    ended    tlie    sen- 


THE  PROLOGUE  8i 

tence  by  a  wliistle,  as  the  best  way  he  could 
hit  on  of  expressing  his  contempt  for  his  OAvn 
existence. 

'  My  lord  !  my  lord  I '  Miles  persisted  ; 
'  the  Invincibles  are  beginning  to  doubt  you. 
If  any  of  them  find  j^ou  hanging  about  Mr. 
Mount  joy's  farm,  they'll  try  a  shot  at  you 
first,  and  ask  afterwards  whether  it  was  right 
to  kill  you  or  not.' 

To  hear  this  said— and  said  seriously — 
after  the  saving  of  him  at  the  milestone,  was 
a  trial  of  her  firmness  which  Iris  was  unable 
to  resist.  Love  got  the  better  of  prudence. 
She  drew  back  the  Avindow-curtain.  In 
another  moment,  she  would  have  added  her 
persuasion  to  the  servant's  warning,  if  Lord 
Harry  himself  had  not  accidentally  checked 
her  by  a  proceeding,  on  his  part,  for  which 
she  was  not  prepared. 

'  Show  the  light,'  he  said  ;  '  I'll  write  a  line 
to  Mr.  Mountjoy.' 

VOL.  I.  G 


82  BLIND  LOVE 

He  tore  off  the  blank  page  from  the  note 
to  the  housekeeper,  and  wrote  to  Arthur, 
entreathig  him  to  change  the  time  of  his  de- 
parture from  Eathco,  and  to  tell  no  creature 
in  the  house,  or  out  of  the  house,  at  what 
new  hour  he  had  arranged  to  go.  '  Saddle 
your  horse  yourself,'  the  letter  concluded. 
It  was  written  in  a  feigned  hand,  Avitliout  a 
signature. 

'  Give  that  to  Mr.  Mountjoy,'  Lord  Harry 
said.  '  If  he  asks  who  wrote  it,  don't  frighten 
him  about  me  by  telling  the  truth.  Lie, 
Miles !  Say  you  don't  know.'  He  next  re- 
turned the  note  for  Mrs.  Lewson.  'If  she 
notices  that  it  has  been  opened,'  he  resumed, 
'  and  asks  who  has  done  it,  lie  again.  Good- 
nisfht.  Miles — and  mind  those  dan£>"erous 
places  on  your  road  liomc.' 

The  groom  darkened  his  lantern  ;  and  the 
wild  lord  was  lost  to  view,  round  the  side  of 
the  house. 


THE  PROLOGUE  83 

Left  by  himself,  Miles  rapped  at  the  door 
with  the  handle  of  his  whip.  '  A  letter  from 
Mr.  Arthur,'  he  called  out.  Mrs.  Lewson  at 
once  took  the  note,  and  examined  it  by  the 
light  of  the  candle  on  the  hall-table.  '  Some- 
body has  been  reading  this  ! '  she  exclaimed, 
stepping  out  to  the  groom,  and  showing  him 
the  torn  envelope.  Miles,  promptly  obeying 
his  instructions,  declared  that  he  knew  nothing 
.    about  it,  and  rode  away. 

Iris  descended  the  stairs,  and  joined  Mrs. 
Lewson  in  the  hall  before  she  4iad  closed  the 
door.  The  housekeeper  at  once  produced 
Arthur's  letter. 

'  It's  on  my  mind.  Miss,'  she  said,  •  to  WTite 
an  answer,  and  say  something  to  Mr.  Arthur 
which  wnll  persuade  him  to  take  care  of  him- 
self, on  his  w^ay  back  to  tlie  farm.  The 
difficulty  is,  how  am  I  to  expiress  it?  You 
would  l)e  doing;  a  kind  thino;  if  you  would 
liive  me  a  word  of  advice.' 

G  2 


84  BLIND  LOVE 

Iris  willingly  complied.  A  second  note, 
from  the  anxious  housekeeper,  might  help  the 
effect  of  the  few  lines  which  Lord  Harry  had 
written. 

Arthur's  letter  informed  Iris  that  he  had 
arranged  to  return  at  three  o'clock.  Lord 
Harry's  question  to  the  groom,  and  the  man's 
reply,  instantly  recurred  to  her  memory : 
'  Are  there  any  strangers  at  Eathco  P  '■ — '  Two 
new  men  at  work  in  the  grounds.'  Arriving 
at  the  same  conclusion  which  had  already 
occurred  to  Lord  Harry,  Iris  advised  the 
liousekeeper,  in  writing  to  Arthur,  to  entreat 
him  to  change  the  hour,  secretly,  at  which 
he  left  his  friend's  house  on  tlic  next  day. 
Warmly  approving  of  this  idea,  Mrs.  Lewson 
hurried  into  the  parlour  to  write  her  letter. 
'  Don't  go  to  bed  yet.  Miss,'  she  said  ;  '  I  want 
you  to  read  it  before  I  send  it  away  the  first 
thincf  to-morrow  mornino'.' 

Left  alone  in  the  halh  witli  tlie  door  open 


THE  PROLOGUE  85 

before  her,  Iris  looked  out  on  the  niglit, 
thinking. 

The  hves  of  the  two  men  in  whom  slie 
was  interested — in  widely  different  ways — 
were  now  both  threatened  ;  and  the  imminent 
danger,  at  that  moment,  was  the  danger  of 
Lord  Harry.  He  was  an  outlaw  whose  cha- 
racter W'Ould  not  bear  investigation  ;  but,  to 
give  him  his  due,  there  was  no  risk  which  he 
was  not  ready  to  confront  for  Arthurs  sake. 
If  he  was  still  recklessly  lingering,  on  the 
watch  for  assassins  in  the  danegerous  neigh- 
bourhood of  the  farm,  who  but  herself  pos- 
sessed the  influence  which  would  prevail  on 
him  to  leave  the  place?  She  had  joined  Mrs. 
Lewson  at  the  door  with  that  conviction  in 
her  mind.  In  another  instant,  she  was  out 
of  the  liouse,  and  bea-inninii"  her  search  in  the 
dark. 

Iris  made  the  round  of  the  building ; 
sometimes  feeling  her  way  in  obscure  places, 


86  BLIND  LOVE 

sometimes  calling  to  Lord  Harry  cautiously 
by  liis  name.  No  living  creature  appeared  ; 
no  sound  of  a  inovement  disturbed  tlie  still- 
ness of  tlie  night.  The  discovery  of  his  ab- 
sence, wliich  she  had  not  dared  to  hope  for, 
was  the  cheering  discovery  which  she  had 
now  made. 

On  her  way  back  to  the  house,  she 
became  conscious  of  the  rashness  of  the  act 
into  which  her  own  generous  impulse  liad 
betrayed  her. 

If  she  and  Lord  Harry  had  met,  could  she 
have  denied  the  tender  interest  in  him  which 
her  own  conduct  would  then  have  revealed  ? 
Would  he  not  have  been  justified  in  con- 
cluding that  she  had  pardoned  the  errors  and 
the  vices  of  his  life,  and  that  he  ]night  with- 
out impropriety  remind  her  of  their  engage^ 
ment,  and  claim  her  hand  in  marriage?  She 
trembled  as  she  tliought  of  the  concessions 
which     lie    mi^-ht    have    wruno'    from    her. 


THE  PROLOGUE  87 

'  Never  more,'  she  determined,  '  shall  my  own 
folly  be  answerable  for  it,  if  he  and  I  meet 
again.' 

She  had  returned  to  Mrs.  Lewson,  and 
had  read  over  the  letter  to  Arthur,  when  the 
farm  clock,  striking  the  hour,  reminded  them 
that  it  was  time  to  retire.  They  slept  badly 
that  nio^ht. 

At  six  in  the  morning,  one  of  the  two 
labourers  who  had  remained  faithful  to 
Arthur  was  sent  away  on  horseback  with  the 
housekeeper's  reply,  and  with  orders  to  wait 
for  an  answer.  Allowing  time  for  oivino:  the 
horse  a  rest,  the  man  might  be  expected  to 
return  before  noon. 


88  BLIND  LOVE 


XI 

^T    was    a    fine   sunshiny   day ;  Mrs. 

Lewson's  spirits  began  to  improve. 

'  I  have  always  held  the  belief,'  the 
worthy  old  woman  confessed,  '  that  bright 
weather  brings  good  luck — of  course  pro- 
vided the  day  is  not  a  Friday.  This  is 
Wednesday.     Cheer  up.  Miss.' 

The  messenger  returned  with  good  news. 
Mr.  Arthur  had  been  as  merry  as  usual.  He 
had  made  fun  of  another  letter  of  good 
advice,  received  without  a  signature.  '  But 
Mrs.  Lewson  must  have  her  way,'  he  said. 
'  My  love  to  tlie  old  dear — I'll  start  two  hours 
later  and  be  back  to  dinner  at  five.' 

'Where    did   Mr.    Arthur   give    you    that 
message  ?  '  Iris  inquired. 


THE  PROLOGUE  89 

'  At  the  stables,  Miss,  while  I  was  putting 
up  the  horse.  The  men  about  were  all  on  tlie 
broad  grin  when  they  heard  Mr.  Arthur's 
message.' 

Still  in  a  morbid  state  of  mind,  Iris 
silently  regretted  that  tlie  message  had  not 
been  written,  instead  of  being  delivered  by 
word  of  mouth.  Here,  again,  she  (like  the 
wild  lord)  had  been  afraid  of  hsteners. 

The  hours  wore  slowly  on  until  it  was 
past  four  o'clock.  Iris  could  endure  the  sus- 
pense no  longer.  '  It's  a  lovely  afternoon,'  she 
said  to  Mrs.  Lewson.  '  Let  us  take  a  walk 
along  the  road,  and  meet  Arthur.'  To  this 
proposal  the  housekeeper  readily  agreed. 

It  w^as  nearly  five  o'clock  when  they 
reached  a  place  at  which  a  by-road  branched 
off,  through  a  wood,  from  the  highway  which 
they  had  hitlierto  followed.  Mrs.  Lewson 
found  a  seat  on  a  felled  tree.  '  We  had 
better  not  go  any  farther,'  she  said. 


90  BLIND  LOVE 

Iris  asked  if  there  was  any  reason  for 
this. 

There  was  an  excellent  reason.  A  few 
yards  farther  on,  the  high  road  had  been 
diverted  from  the  straight  line  (in  the  interest 
of  a  large  agricultural  village),  and  was  then 
directed  again  into  its  former  course.  The 
by-road  through  the  wood  served  as  a  short 
cut,  for  horsemen  and  pedestrians,  from  one 
divergent  point  to  the  other.  It  was  next  to 
a  certainty  that  Arthur  would  return  by  the 
short  cut.  But,  if  accident  or  caprice  led  to 
his  preferring  the  highway,  it  was  clearly 
necessary  to  wait  for  him  within  view  of  both 
the  roads. 

Too  restless  to  submit  to  a  state  of  pas- 
sive expectation.  Iris  proposed  to  follow  the 
bridle-path  through  the  wood  for  a  little  way, 
and  to  return  if  she  failed  to  see  anything  of 
Arthur.  '  You  are  tired,'  she  said  kindly 
to  her  companion  ;  '  pray  don't  move  ' 


THE  PROLOGUE  91 

Mrs.  Lewson  looked  needlessly  uneasy : 
'  You  might  lose  yourself,  Miss.  Mind  you 
keep  to  the  patli ! ' 

Iris  followed  the  pleasant  windings  of  the 
woodland  track.  In  the  liope  of  meeting 
Arthur  she  considerably  extended  the  lengtli 
of  her  walk.  The  wliite  line  of  the  higli  road, 
as  it  passed  the  farther  end  of  the  wood, 
showed  itself  through  the  trees.  She  turned 
at  once  to  rejoin  Mrs.  Lewson. 

On  her  way  back  she  made  a  discovery. 
A  ruin  which  she  had  not  previously  noticed 
showed  itself  amonsf  the  trees  on  her  left 
hand.  Her  curiosity  was  excited ;  she 
strayed  aside  to  examine  it  more  closely. 
The  crumbling  walls,  as  she  approached 
them,  looked  like  the  remains  of.  an  ordinary 
dwelhng-house.  Age  is  essential  to  the 
picturesque  effect  of  decay ;  a  modern  ruin 
is  an  unnatural  and  depressing  object — and 
here  the  horrid  thincr  was. 


92  BLIND  LOVE 

As  she  turned  to  retrace  lier  steps  to  ilie 
road,  a  man  walked  out  of  the  inner  space 
enclosed  by  all  that  was  left  of  the  dismantled 
house.  A  cry  of  alarm  escaped  her.  Was 
she  the  victim  of  destiny,  or  the  sport  of 
chance  .^  There  was  the  wild  lord  whom  she 
had  vowed  never  to  see  ao-ain  :  the  master  of 
her  heart — perhaps  the  master  of  her  fate  ! 

Any  other  man  Avould  have  been  amazed 
to  see  her,  and  would  have  asked  how  it  had 
happened  tliat  the  English  lady  presented 
lierself  to  liini  in  an  Irish  wood.  This  man 
enjoyed  the  delight  of  seeing  her,  and  ac- 
cepted it  as  a  blessing  that  was  not  to  be 
questioned.  '  My  angel  has  dropped  from 
Heaven,'  he  said.     '  May  Heaven  be  praised ! ' 

He  approached  her ;  his  arms  closed 
round  her.  She  struggled  to  free  herself 
from  his  embrace.  At  that  moment  they 
both  heard  the  crackle  of  breakinc^  under- 
wood  amonu  the  trees  behind   them.      Lord 


THE  PROLOGUE  93 

Harry  looked  round.  '  This  is  a  dangerous 
place,'  he  whispered ;  '  I'm  waiting  to  sec 
Arthur  pass  safely.  Submit  to  be  kissed,  or 
I  am  a  dead  man.'  His  eyes  told  lier  that  lie 
was  truly  and  fearfully  in  earnest.  Her  head 
sank  on  his  bosom.  As  he  bent  down  and 
kissed  her,  three  men  approached  from  their 
hiding-place  among  the  trees.  They  had  no 
doubt  been  watching  him,  under  orders  from 
the  murderous  brotherhood  to  which  they 
belonged.  Their  pistols  were  ready  in  their 
hands — and  what  discovery  had  they  made  ? 
There  was  the  brother  who  had  been  de- 
nounced as  having  betrayed  them,  guilty  of 
no  worse  treason  than  meeting  liis  sweetheart 
in  a  wood  I  '  We  beg  your  pardon,  my  lord,' 
they  cried  with  a  thoroughly  Irish  enjoyment 
of  their  own  discomfiture — and  burst  into  a 
roar  of  laughter — and  left  the  lovers  together. 
For  the  second  time,  Iris  had  saved  Lord 
Harry  at  a  crisis  in  liis  life. 


94  BLIND  LOVE 

'  Let  me  go  ! '  she  pleaded  faintly,  trem- 
bling with  superstitious  fear  for  the  first  time 
in  her  experience  of  herself. 

He  held  her  to  him  as  if  he  would  never 
let  her  go  again.  '  Oli,  my  Sweet,  give  me  a 
last  chance.  Helj:)  me  to  be  a  better  man  ! 
You  have  only  to  will  it,  Iris,  and  to  make 
me  worthy  of  you.' 

His  arms  suddenly  trembled  round  her, 
and  dropped.  The  silence  was  broken  by  a 
distant  sound,  like  the  report  of  a  shot.  He 
looked  towards  the  farther  end  of  the  Avood. 
In  a  minute  more,  the  thump  of  a  horse's 
hoofs  at  a  gallop  was  audible,  where  the 
bridle-path  was  hidden  among  the  trees.  It 
came  nearer  —  nearer  —  the  creature  burst 
into  view,  wild  with  fright,  and  carrying  an 
empty  saddle.  Lord  Harry  rushed  into  the 
path,  and  seized  the  horse  as  it  swerved  at 
the  sight  of  liim.  There  was  a  leather  pocket 
attached  to  the  front  of  the  saddle.     '  Searcli 


She  drczv  out  a  silver  travellins-fask.     One  fiance  at  the  navie  engraved  on  it  told  him  the 

terrible  truth. 


'      THE  PROLOGUE  95 

it!'  lie  cried  to  Iris,  forcing  tlic  terrified 
animal  back  on  its  haunches.  She  drew  out 
a  silver  travellini>'-flask.  One  aiance  at  the 
name  engraved  on  it  told  him  the  terrible 
truth.  His  trembling  hands  lost  their  hold. 
The  horse  escaped  ;  the  words  burst  from  his 
lips  : 

'  Oh,  God,  they've  killed  him  ! ' 


THE    END    OF    THE    PROLOGUE 


THE    STORY 
FIRST   PERIOD 

CHAPTER  I 

THE    SOUR   FRENCH   WIXE 

HILE  the  line  to  be  taken  by  the 
new  railway  between  Cnlni  and 
Everill  was  still  under  discussion, 
the  engineer  caused  some  difference  of  opinion 
among  the  moneyed  men  who  were  the  first 
Directors  of  the  Company,  by  asking  if  they 
proposed  to  include  among  their  stations  the 
little  old  town  of  Honey  buzzard. 

For  years  past,  commerce  had  declined, 
and  population  had  decreased  in  tliis  ancient 
and  curious  place.      Painters  knew  it  well, 

VOL.  I.  H 


98  BUND  LOVE 

and  prized  its  media3val  lioiises  as  a  mine 
of  valuable  material  for  tlieir  art.  Persons 
of  cultivated  tastes,  who  were  interested  in 
church  architecture  of  the  fourteenth  centur}^ 
sometimes  pleased  and  flattered  the  Piector  by 
subscribing^  to  his  fund  for  the  restoration  of 
the  tower,  and  the  removal  of  tlie  accumulated 
rubbish  of  hundreds  of  years  from  the  crypt. 
Small  speculators,  not  otherwise  in  a  state  of 
insanity,  settled  themselves  in  the  town,  and 
tried  the  desperate  experiment  of  opening  a 
shop  ;  spent  their  little  capital,  put  up  the 
shutters,  and  disappeared.  The  old  market- 
place stiir  showed  its  list  of  market-laws,  issued 
by  the  Mayor  and  •  Corporation  in  the  pros- 
perous bygone  times  ;  and  every  week  there 
were  fewer  and  fewer  people  to  obey  the  laws. 
The  great  empty  enclosure  looked  more 
cheerful  wlien  there  was  no  market  held,  and 
when  the  boys  of  the  town  played  in  tlie 
deserted  place.     In  the  last  warehouse  left  in 


THE   SOUR   FRENCH   WINE  99 

a  state  of  repair,  the  crane  was  generally  idle ; 
the  windows  were  mostly  sliut  up ;  and  a 
solitary  man  represented  languishing  trade, 
idling  at  a  half-opened  d'oor.  The  muddy 
river  rose  and  fell  with  tlie  distant  tide.  At 
rare  intervals  a  collier  discharged  its  cargo  on 
the  mouldering  quay,  or  an  empty  barge  took 
in  a  load  of  hay.  One  bold  house  advertised, 
in  a  dirty  window,  apartments  to  let.  There 
was  a  lawyer  in  the  town,  who  had  no  occa- 
sion to  keep  a  clerk ;  and  there  was  a  doctor 
who  hoped  to  sell  his  practice  for  anythino- 
that  it  would  fetch.  The  directors  of  the  new 
railway,  after  a  stormy  meeting,  decided  on 
offering  (by  means  of  a  station)  a  last  chance 
of  revival  to  the  dying  town.  The  town  had 
not  vitahty  enough  left  to  be  grateful;  the 
railway  stimulant  produced  no  effect.  Of  all 
his  colleagues  in  Great  Britain  and  Ireland, 
the  station-master  at  Honeybuzzard  was  the 
idlest  man — and  this,  as  he  said  to  the  uneni- 

H  2 


ICO  BLIhW  LOVE 

ployed  porter,  through  no  want  of  energy  on 
his  own  part. 

Late  on  a  rainy  autumn  afternoon,  the 
slow  train  left  one  traveller  at  the  station. 
He  got  out  of  a  first-class  carriage  ;  he  carried 
an  umbrella  and  a  travelling-bag  ;  and  he 
asked  his  way  to  the  best  inn.  The  station- 
master  and  the  porter  compared  notes.  One 
of  them  said  :  '  Evidently  a  gentleman.'  The 
other  added:  'What  can  he  possibly  want 
here  ? ' 

The  stranger  twice  lost  his  way  in  tlie 
tortuous  old  streets  of  the  town  before  he 
reached  the  inn.  On  giving  liis  orders,  it  ap- 
peared that  he  wanted  three  things  :  a  private 
room,  something  to  eat,  and,  while  the  dinner 
was  being  cooked,  materials  for  writing  a 
letter. 

Answering  her  daughter's  questions  down- 
stairs, the  landlady  described  her  guest  as  a 
nice-looking  man  dressed  in  deep  mourning. 


THE  SOUR  FRENCH    WINE  loi 

'  Young,  my  clear,  with  beautiful  dark  brown 
hair,  and  a  grand  beard,  and  a  sweet  sorrowful 
look.  Ah,  his  eyes  would  tell  anybody  that 
his  black  clothes  are  not  a  mere  sham.  Whe- 
ther married  or  single,  of  course  I  can't  say. 
But  I  noticed  the  name  on  his  travelhng  bag. 
A  distinguished  name,  in  my  opinion — Hugh 
Mountjoy.  I  wonder  what  he'll  order  to  drink 
when  he  has  his  dinner?  What  a  mercy  it 
will  be  if  we  can  get  rid  of  another  bottle  of 
the  sour  French  wine ! ' 

The  bell  in  the  private  room  rang  at  that 
moment ;  and  the  landlady's  daughter,  it  is 
needless  to  say,  took  the  opportunity  of  form- 
ing her  own  opinion  of  Mr.  Hugh  Mountjoy. 

'  She  returned  with  a  letter  in  her  hand, 
consumed  by  a  vain  longing  for  the  advan- 
tages of  gentle  birth.  '  Ah,  mother,  if  I  was 
a  young  lady  of  the  higher  classes,  I  know 
whose  wife  I  should  like  to  be ! '  Not  par- 
ticularly interested  in  sentimental  aspirations. 


102  BLIND   LOVE 

the  landlady  asked  to  see  Mr.  Mountjoy's 
letter.  Tlie  messenger  who  delivered  it  was 
to  wait  for  an  answer.  It  Avas  addressed  to  : 
'  Miss  Henley,  care  of  Clarence  Yimpany, 
Esquire,  Honey  buzzard.'  Urged  by  an  excited 
imagination,  the  daughter  longed  to  see  Miss 
Henley.  The  mother  was  at  a  loss  to  under- 
stand why  Mr.  Mountjoy  should  have  troubled 
himself  to  write  the  letter  at  all.  '  If  he  knows 
the  young  lady  Avho  is  staying  at  the  doctor's 
house,'  she  said,  '  why  doesn't  he  call  on  Miss 
Henley?'  She  handed  the  letter  back  to  her 
daughter.  '  There !  let  the  ostler  take  it ;  he's 
fyot  nothing;  to  do.' 

'No,  mother.  The  ostler's  dirty  hands 
mustn't  touch  it — I'll  take  the  letter  myself. 
Perhaps  I  may  see  Miss  Henley.'  Such  was 
the  impression  which  Mr.  Hugh  Mountjoy  had 
innocently  produced  on  a  sensitive  young 
person,  condemned  by  destiny  to  the  barren 
sphere  of  action  all'orded  by  a  country  inn ! 


THE   SOUR  FRENCH   WINE  103 

The  landlady  lierself  took  tlie  dinner  up- 
stairs— a  first  course  of  mutton  cliops  and 
potatoes  ;  cooked  to  a  degree  of  imperfection 
only  attained  in  an  English  kitchen.  The  sour 
French  wine  was  still  on  the  good  woman's 
mind.  'What  would  you  choose  to  drink, 
sir?'  slie  asked.  Mr.  Mountjoy  seemed  to 
feel  no  interest  in  what  he  might  have  to 
drink.  '  We  have  some  French  wine,  sir.' 
'  Thank  you,  ma'am  ;  that  will  do.' 
When  tlie  bell  rani?  ao-ain,  and  the  time 
came  to  produce  the  second  course  of  cheese 
and  celery,  the  landlady  allowed  the  waiter  to 
take  her  place.  Her  experience  of  the  farmers 
who  frequented  the  inn,  and  who  had  in  some 
few  cases  been  induced  to  taste  the  wine, 
warned  her  to  anticipate  an  outbreak  of  just 
anger  from  Mr.  Mountjoy.  He,  like  the 
others,  would  probably  ask  what  she  '  meant 
by  poisoning  him  with  such  stuff  as  that  ?  '  On 
the  return  of  the  waiter,  she  put  the  question  : 


I04  BLIND  LOVE 

'  Did  the  gentleman  complain  of  the  French 
wine  ?  ' 

'  He  wants  to  see  you  about  it,  ma'am/ 

The  landlady  turned  pale.  The  expression 
of  Mr.  Mountjoy's  indignation  was  evidently 
reserved  for  the  mistress  of  the  house.  '  Did 
he  swear,'  she  asked,  '  when  he  tasted  it  ? ' 

'  Lord  bless  you,  ma'am,  no  !  Drank  it  out 
of  a  tumbler,  and — if  you  will  believe  me — 
actually  seemed  to  like  it.' 

The  landlady  recovered  her  colour.  Grati- 
tude to  Providence  for  having  sent  a  customer 
to  the  inn,  who  could  drink  sour  wine  without 
discovering  it,  was  the  uppermost  feeling  in 
her  ample  bosom  as  she  entered  the  private 
room.  Mr.  Mountjoy  justified  her  anticipa- 
tions. He  was  simple  enough — with  his 
tumbler  before  him,  and  the  wine  as  it  were 
under  his  nose — to  begin  with  an  apology. 

'  I  am  sorry  to  trouble  you,  ma'am.  May 
I  ask  where  you  got  this  wine  ?  ' 


■    THE  SOUR  FRENCH   WINE  105 

'  The  wine,  sir,  was  one  of  my  late  hus- 
band's bad  debts.  It  was  all  he  could  get 
from  a  Frenchman  who  owed  liim  money.' 

'  It's  worth  money,  ma'am.' 

'  Indeed,  sir  ?  ' 

'  Yes,  indeed.  This  is  some  of  tlie  fmest 
and  purest  claret  that  I  have  tasted  for  many 
a  long  day  past.' 

An  alarming  suspicion  disturbed  the  se- 
renity of  the  landlady's  mind.  Was  this  ex- 
traordinary opinion  of  the  Avine  sincere  ?  Or 
was  it  Mr.  Mountjoy's  wicked  design  to  entrap 
her  into  praising  her  claret,  and  then  to  imply 
that  she  was  a  cheat  by  declaring  what  lie 
really  thought  of  it  ?  She  took  refuge  in  a 
cautious  reply  : 

'  You  are  the  first  gentleman,  sir,  who  has 
not  found  fault  with  it.' 

'  In  that  case,  perhaps  you  would  like  to 
get  rid  of  the  wine  ? '  Mr.  Mountjoy  sug- 
gested. 


io6  BLIND   LOVE 

Tlie  landlady  was  still  cautious.  '  Who 
will  buy  it  of  me,  sir  ?  ' 

'  I  will.  How  mucli  do  you  charge  for  it 
by  the  bottle  ?  ' 

It  was,  by  this  time,  clear  that  lie  was  not 
mischievous — only  a  little  crazy.  The,  worldly- 
wise  hostess  took  advantage  of  that  circum- 
stance to  double  the  price.  Without  hesita- 
tion, she  said  :  '  Five  shillings  a  bottle,  sir.' 

Often,  too  often,  the  irony  of  circumstances 
brings  together,  on  this  earthly  scene,  the 
opposite  types  of  vice  and  virtue.  A  lying 
landlady  and  a  guest  incapable  of  deceit  were 
looking  at  each  other  across  a  narrow  table  ; 
equally  unconscious  of  the  immeasurable  moral 
gulf  that  lay  between  them.  Influenced  by 
honourable  feeling,  innocent  Hugh  Mountjoy 
lashed  the  landlady's  greed  for  money  to  the 
full-gallop  of  human  cupidity. 

'  I  don't  think  you  are  aware  of  the  value 
of  your  wine,' he  said.     'I  have  claret  in  my 


THE   SOLR   FRENCH    WIAE.  107 

cellar  wliicli  is  not  so  o-oocl  as  tliis,  and  wliicli 
costs  more  than  you  have  asked.  It  is  only 
fair  to  offer  you  seven-and-sixpence  a  bottle.' 

Wlien  an  eccentric  traveller  is  asked  to 
pay  a  price,  and  deliberately  raises  that  price 
against  himself,  where  is  the  sensible  woman 
— especially  if  she  happens  to  be  a  widow 
conducting  an  unprofitable  business — who 
would  hesitate  to  improve  the  opportunity  ? 
The  greedy  landlady  raised  her  terms. 

'  On  reflection,  sir,  I  think  I  ought  to  have 
ten  shillings  a  bottle,  if  you  please.' 

'  The  wine  may  be  worth  it,'  Mountjoy 
answered  quietly  ;  '  but  it  is  more  than  I  can 
afford  to  pay.  No,  ma'am  ;  I  will  leave  you 
to  find  some  lover  of  o-ood  claret  with  a  lono-er 
purse  than  mine.' 

It  was  in  this  man's  character,  when  he  said 
Xo,  to  mean  No.  Mr.  Mountjoy 's  hostess  per- 
ceived that  her  crazy  customer  was  not  to  be 
trifled  with.  She  lowered  her  terms  a^'ain  with 


io8  BLIND  LOVE 

tlie  headlong  hurry  of  terror.  '  You  shall  have 
it,  sir,  at  your  own  price,'  said  this  entirely 
shameless  and  perfectly  respectable  woman. 

The  bargain  having  been  closed  under 
these  circumstances,  the  landlady's  daughter 
knocked  at  the  door.  'I  took  your  letter 
myself,  sir,'  she  said  modestly  ;  '  and  here  is 
the  answer.'  (She  had  seen  Miss  Henley,  and 
did  not  think  much  of  her.)  Mountjoy 
offered  the  expression  of  his  thanks,  in  words 
never  to  be  forgotten  by  a  sensitive  young 
person,  and  opened  his  letter.  It  was  short 
enou<ih  to  be  read  in  a  moment ;  but  it  was 
evidently  a  favourable  reply.  He  took  his  hat 
in  a  hurry,  and  asked  to  be  shown  the  way  to 
Mr.  Vimpany's  house. 


I09 


CHAPTEE  IE 

THE   MAN   SHE   REFUSED 


OUNTJOY  had 
decided      on 
travelling   to 
H  o  n  e  y  b  u  z- 
zard,  as  soon 
as     he     heard 
that  Miss  Hen- 
ley was  staying 
with  strangers 
in    that    town. 
Having  had  no 
earlier    oj)por- 
tnnity   of  pre- 
paring   her   to 
see  him,  he  had 


no  BLIND  LOVE 

considerately  written  to  her  from  the  inn,  in 
preference  to  presenting  himself  unexpectedly 
at  the  doctor's  house.  How  would  slie  re- 
ceive the  devoted  friend,  whose  proposal  of 
marriage  she  had  refused  for  the  second  time, 
when  they  had  last  met  in  London  ? 

The  doctor's  place  of  residence,  situated 
in  a  solitary  by-street,  commanded  a  view, 
not  perhaps  encouraging  to  a  gentleman  who 
followed  the  medical  profession :  it  was  a 
view  of  the  churchyard.  The  door  w^as 
opened  by  a  w^oman-servant,  Avho  looked  sus- 
piciously at  the  stranger.  Without  waiting  to 
be  questioned,  she  said  her  master  was  out. 

•  Mountjoy  mentioned  his  name,  and  asked 
for  Miss  Henley. 

'  The  servant's  manner  altered  at  once  for 
the  better  ;  she  showed  him  into  a  small 
drawing-room,  scantily  and  cheaply  furnished. 
Some  poorly- framed  prints  on  the  walls  (a  little 
out  of  place,  perhaps,  in    a  doctor's    house) 


Impulsively  she  dreiv  his  head  dozvn. 


THE  MAN  SHE  REEUSED  m 

represented  portraits  of  famous  actresses,  ^vllo 
had  been  queens  of  the  stage  in  the  early  part 
of  the  present  centur3\  The  few  books,  too, 
collected  on  a  little  shelf  above  the  chimney- 
piece,  were  in  every  case  specimens  of  dra- 
matic literature.  '  Who  reads  these  plays  P' 
Mountjoy  asked  himself.  '  And  how  did  Iris 
lind  her  way  into  this  house  ?  ' 

While  he  was  thinking  of  her,  Miss  Henley 
entered  the  room. 

Her  face  was  pale  and  careworn  ;  teai-s 
dimmed  her  eyes  when  Mountjoy  advanced  to 
meet  ]]er.  In  his  presence,  the  horror  of  his 
brother's  death  by  assassination  sliook  Iris  as 
it  had  not  shaken  her  yet.  Impulsively,  she 
drew  his  head  down  to  her,  with  the  fond 
familiarity  of  a  sister,  and  kissed  his  foreliead. 
.'Oh,  Hugh,  I  know  how  you  and  Arthur  loved 
each  other  !  Xo  words  of  mhie  can  say  how 
I  feel  for  3'ou.' 

'  Xo    words    are    wanted,    my    dear,'    he 


112  BLIND  LOVE 

answered  tenderly.     '  Your  sympathy  speaks 
for  itself.' 

He  led  her  to  the  sofa  and  seated  himself 
by  her  side.  'Your  father  has  shown  me 
what  you  have  written  to  him,'  he  resumed  ; 
'  your  letter  from  Dublin  and  your  second 
letter  from  this  place.  I  know  what  you 
have  so  nobly  risked  and  suffered  in  poor 
Arthur's  interests.  It  will  be  some  consola- 
tion to  me  if  I  can  make  a  return — a  very  poor 
return,  Iris — for  all  that  Arthur's  brother  owes 
to  the  truest  friend  that  ever  man  had.  No,' 
he  continued,  gently  interrupting  the  expres- 
sion of  her  gratitude.  '  Your  father  has  not 
sent  me  here — but  he  knows  that  I  have  left 
London  for  the  express  purpose  of  seeing  j^ou, 
and  he  knows  why.  You  have  written  to  him 
dutifully  and  affectionately  ;  you  have  pleaded 
for  pardon  and  reconciliation,  when  he  is  to 
blame.  Shall  I  venture  to  tell  you  how  he 
answered  me,  when  I  asked  if  he  had  no  faith 


IT^ 


left  in  his  own  child  ?  "  Hugh,"  he  said,  "  you 
are  wasting  words  on  a  man  whose  mind  is 
made  up.  I  will  trust  my  daughter  when 
that  Irisli  lord  is  laid  in  his  grave — not  before." 
That  is  a  reflection  on  you,  Iris,  whicli  I  can- 
not permit,  even  when  your  father  casts  it, 
He  is  hard,  he  is  unforgiving  ;  but  he  must, 
and  shall,  be  conquered  yet.  I  mean  to 
make  him  do  you  justice ;  I  have  come 
liere  with  that  purpose,  and  that  purpose 
only,  in  view.  May  I  speak  to  you  of  Lord 
Harry  ?  ' 

'  How  can  you  doubt  it  ?  ' 

'  My  dear,  tliis  is  a  delicate  subject  for  mc 
to  enter  on.' 

*  And  a  shameful  subject  for  Me!'  Iris 
broke  out  bitterly.  '  Hugh  !  you  are  an 
angel,  by  comparison  with  that  man — how 
debased  I  must  be  to  love  him— how  unworthy 
of  your  good  opinion  !  Ask  me  anything  you 
like;  have  no  mercy  on  me.     Oli,'  she  cried, 

VOL.  I.  I 


114  BLIND  LOVE 

with  reckless  contempt  for  herself,  '  why  don't 
you  beat  me  ?     I  deserve  it ! ' 

Mouiitjoy  was  well  enough  acquainted 
with  the  natures  of  women  to  pass  over 
that  passionate  outbreak,  instead  of  fanning 
the  flame  in  her  by  reasoning  and  remon- 
strance. 

'  Your  father  will  not  listen  to  the  ex- 
pression of  feeling,'  he  continued  ;  '  but  it  is 
possible  to  rouse  his  sense  of  justice  by  the 
expression  of  facts.  Help  me  to  speak  to 
him  more  plainly  of  Lord  Harry  than  you 
could  speak  in  your  letters.  I  want  to  know 
what  has  happened,  from  the  time  when 
events  at  Ardoon  brought  you  and  the  young 
lord  together  again,  to  the  time  when  you 
left  him  in  Ireland  after  my  brother's  death. 
If  I  seem  to  expect  too  much  of  you.  Iris, 
pray  remember  that  I  am  speaking  with  a 
true  regard  for  your  interests.' 

In   those   words,   he   made   his  o'enerous 


THE  MAN  SHE  REFUSED  115 

appeal    to   her.     She   proved   herself   to    be 
worthy  of  it. 

Stated  briefly,  the  retrospect  began  with 
the  mysterious  anonymous  letters  whicli  had 
been  addressed  to  Sir  Giles. 

Lord  Harry's  explanation  had  been  offered 
to  Iris  gratefully,  but  with  some  reserve,  after 
she  had  told  him  who  the  stranger  at  the 
milestone  really  was.  'I  entreat  you  to  par- 
don me,  if  I  shrink  from  entering  into  parti- 
culars,' he  had  said.  '  Circumstances,  at  the 
time,  amply  justified  me  in  the  attempt  to  use 
the  banker's  political  influence  as  a  means  of 
securing  Arthur's  safety.  I  knew  enough  of 
Sir  Giles's  mean  nature  to  be  careful  in  trust- 
ing him  ;  but  I  did  hope  to  try  what  my  per- 
sonal influence  might  do.  If  he  had  possessed 
a  tenth  part  of  your  courage,  Arthur  miglit 
have  been  alive,  and  safe  in  England,  at  this 
moment.      I  can't  say  any  more  ;   I  daren't 

I  '1 


ii6  BLIND   LOVE 

say  any  more  ;  it  maddens  me  when  I  think 
of  it  !  '  He  abruptly  changed  tlie  subject, 
and  interested  Lis  by  speaking  of  otlier 
and  later  events.  Ilis  association  with  the 
Invincibles — inexcusably  rash  and  wicked  as 
he  himself  confessed  it  to  be — had  enabled  him 
to  penetrate,  and  for  a  time  to  defeat  secretly 
the  murderous  designs  of  the  brotherhood. 
His  appearances,  first  at  the  farmhouse  and 
afterwards  at  the  ruin  in  tlie  wood,  were 
referable  to  changes  in  the  plans  of  the 
assassins  which  had  come  to  his  knowledge. 
When  Iris  had  met  with  him  he  was  ou  the 
watch,  beUeving  that  his  friend  w^ould  take 
the  short  way  back  through  the  wood,  and 
well  aware  that  -his  own  life  might  pay  the 
penalty  if  he  succeeded  in  warning  Arthur. 
After  the  terrible  discovery  of  the  murder 
(committed  on  the  high  road),  and  the  escape  of 
the  miscreant  who  had  been  guilty  of  the  crime, 
the  parting  of  Lord  Harry  and  Miss  Henley 


THE  MAN  SHE  REFUSED  117 

had  been  the  next  event.  She  had  left  hiin, 
on  her  return  to  England,  and  had  refused  to 
consent  to  any  of  the  future  meetings  between 
them  which  he  besought  her  to  grant. 

At  this  stage  in  the  narrative,  Mountjoy 
felt  compelled  to  ask  questions  more  search- 
ing than  he  had  put  to  Iris  yet.  It  was  pos- 
sible that  she  might  be  trusting  her  own 
impressions  of  Lord  Harry,  with  the  ill- 
placed  confidence  of  a  woman  innocently 
8  elf- deceived. 

'  Did  he  submit  willingly  to  your  leaving 
him  ?  '  Mountjoy  said. 

'  Not  at  first,'  she  replied. 

'Has  he  released  you  from  that  rash  engage- 
ment, of  some  years  since,  which  pledged  you 
to  marry  him  ? ' 

'No.' 

'  Did  he  allude  to  the  engagement,  on  this 
occasion?' 


ii8  BLIND  LOVE 

'  He  said  he  held  to  it  as  the  one  hope  of 
hisHfe.' 

'  And  what  did  you  say  ? ' 

'  I  implored  him  not  to  distress  me.' 

'  Did  you  say  nothing  more  positive  than 
that  ?  ' 

'  I  couldn't  help  thinking,  Hugh,  of  all 
that  he  had  tried  to  do  to  save  Arthur.  But 
I  insisted  on  leaving  him — and  I  have  left 
him.' 

'  Do  you  remember  what  he  said  at  part- 
ing?' 

'  He  said,  "  "While  I  live,  I  love  you."  ' 

As  she  repeated  the  words,  there  was  an 
involuntary  change  to  tenderness  in  her  voice 
which  was  not  lost  on  Mountjoy. 

'  I  must  be  sure,'  he  said  to  her  gravely, 
'  of  what  I  tell  your  father  when  I  go  back  to 
him.  Can  I  declare,  with  a  safe  conscience, 
that  you  will  never  see  Lord  Harry  again  ? ' 

'My  mind  is  made  up  never  to  see  him 


THE  MAN  SHE  REFUSED  119 

again.'  She  had  answered  firmly  so  far.  Her 
next  words  were  spoken  with  hesitation,  in 
tones  that  faltered.  '  But  I  am  sometimes 
afraid,'  slie  said,  '  that  the  decision  may  not 
rest  with  me.' 

'  What  do  you  mean  ?  ' 
'  I  would  rather  not  tell  you.' 
'  That  is  a  strange  answer,  Iris.' 
'  I  value  your  good  opinion,  Hugh  ;  and  1 
am  afraid  of  losing  it.' 

*  Nothing  has  ever  altered  my  opinion  of 
you,'  he  replied  ;  '  and  nothing  ever  will.' 

She  looked  at  him  anxiously,  with  the 
closest  attention.  Little  by  little,  the  expres- 
sion of  doubt  in  her  face  disappeared  ;  she 
knew  how  he  loved  her — she  resolved  to 
trust  him. 

'  My  friend,'  she  began  abruptly,  '  educa- 
tion has  done  nothing  for  me.  Since  I  left 
Ireland,  I  have  sunk  (I  don't  know  liow  or 
why)  into  a  state  of  superstitious  fear.     Yes  ! 


I20  BLIND  LOVE 

I  believe  in  a  fatality  which  is  leading  me 
back  to  Lord  Harry,  in  spite  of  myself.  Twice 
already,  since  I  left  home,  I  have  met  with 
him  ;  and  eacli  time  I  have  been  the  means  of 
saving  him — once  at  the  milestone,  and  once 
at  the  ruin  in  the  wood.  If  my  father  still 
accuses  me  of  being  in  love  with  an  adven- 
turer, you  can  say  with  perfect  truth  that  I 
am  afraid  of  him.  I  am  afraid  of  the  third 
meeting.  I  have  done  my  best  to  escape  from 
that  man  ;  and  step  by  step,  as  I  think  I  am 
getting  away,  Destiny  is  taking  me  back  to 
him.  I  may  be  on  my  way  to  him  here, 
hidden  in  this  wretched  little  town.  Oh, 
don't  despise  me  !  Don't  be  ashamed  of 
me  ! ' 

'  My  dear,  I  am  interested — deeply  inter- 
ested in  you.  That  there  may  be  some  such 
influence  as  Destiny  in  our  poor  mortal  lives 
I  dare  not  deny.  But  I  don't  agree  with  your 
conclusion.     What  Destiny  is  to  do  with  you 


THE  MAN  SHE  REFUSED  121 

and  with  me,  neither  you  nor  I  can  pretend 
to  know  beforehand.  In  the  presence  of  that 
great  mystery,  humanity  must  submit  to  be 
ignorant.     Wait,  Iris — wait ! ' 

She  answered  him  with  the  simplicity  of  a 
docile  child:  '  I  will  do  anything  you  tell  me.' 

Mountjoy  was  too  fond  of  her  to  say  more 
of  Lord  Harry,  for  that  day.  He  was  careful 
to  lead  tlie  talk  to  a  topic  which  might  be 
trusted  to  provoke  no  agitating  thoughts. 
Finding  Iris  to  all  appearance  established  in 
the  doctor's  house,  he  was  naturally  anxious 
to  know  something  of  the  person  who  must 
have  invited  her — the  doctor's  wife. 


122  BLIND  LOVE 


CHAPTEK  III 

THE   REGISTERED   PACKET 

OUNTJGY  bei^an  bv  alkidino'  to  tlie 
second  of  Miss  Henley's  letters  to 
her  father,  and  to  a  passage  in  it 
wliich  mentioned  Mrs.  Yimpany  with  expres- 
sions of  the  sincerest  gratitude. 

'I  should  like  to  know  more,'  he  said, 
'  of  a  lady  whose  hospitality  at  home  seems  to 
equal  her  kindness  as  a  fellow-traveller.  Did 
you  first  meet  with  her  on  the  railway  P ' 

'  She  travelled  by  the  same  train  to  Dublin, 
with  me  and  my  maid,  but  not  in  the  same 
carriage,'  Iris  answered  ;  '  I  was  so  fortunate 
as  to  meet  with  lier  on  tlie  voyage  from 
Dubhn   to    Holyhead.      We    had    a    rough 


THE  REGISTERED  PACKET  123 

crossing ;  and  Elioda  suffered  so  dreadfully 
from  sea-sickness  that  she  frightened  me. 
The  stewardess  was  attending  to  ladies  who 
were  calling  for  her  in  all  directions  ;  I  really 
don't  know  what  misfortune  miglit  not  have 
happened,  if  Mrs.  Vimpany  had  not  come 
forward  in  the  kindest  manner,  and  offered 
help.  She  knew  so  wonderfully  well  what 
was  to  be  done,  that  she  astonished  me.  "  I 
am  the  wife  of  a  doctor,"  she  said  ;  "  and  I  am 
only  imitating  what  I  have  seen  my  husband 
do,  when  his  assistance  has  been  required,  at 
sea,  in  weather  like  this."  In  her  poor  state 
of  health,  Ehoda  was  too  much  exhausted  to 
go  on  by  tlie  train,  when  we  got  to  Holyhead. 
She  is  the  best  of  good  girls,  and  I  am  fond 
of  her,  as  you  know.  If  I  had  been  by  myself, 
I  dare  say  I  should  have  sent  for  medical  help. 
What  do  you  think  dear  Mrs.  Yimpany  offered 
to  do?  "Your  maid  is  only  faint,"  she  said. 
"  Give  her  rest  and  some  iced  wine,  and  she  will 


124  BLIND  LOVE 

be  well  enough  to  go  on  by  the  slow  train. 
Don't  be  frightened  about  her ;  I  will  wait 
with  you."  And  she  did  wait.  Are  there 
many  strangers,  Hugh,  who  are  as  unselfishly 
good  to  others  as  my  chance-acquaintance  in 
the  steam-boat  ? ' 

'  Very  few,  I  am  afraid.' 

Mountjoy  made  that  reply  with  some  little 
embarrassir  nt ;  conscious  of  a  doubt  of 
Mrs.  Yimpany's  disinterested  kindness,  which 
seemed  to  be  unworthy  of  a  just  man. 

Iris  went  on. 

'Elioda  was  sufficiently  recovered,'  she 
said,  '  to  travel  by  the  next  train,  and  there 
seemed  to  be  no  reason  for  feeling  any  more 
anxiety.  But,  after  a  time,  the  fatigue  of 
the  journey  proved  to  be  too  much  for  her. 
The  poor  girl  turned  pale — and  fainted.  Mrs. 
Vimpany  revived  her,  but,  as  it  turned  out, 
only  for  a  while.  She  fell  into  another  faint- 
ing fit;   and  my  travening-companion  began 


THE  REGISTERED  PACKET  125 

to  look  anxious.  There  was  some  difficulty 
in  restorin<j^  Elioda  to  lier  senses.  In  dread 
of  another  attack,  I  determined  to  stop  at  the 
next  station.  It  looked  such  a  poor  place, 
when  we  got  to  it,  that  I  hesitated.  Mrs. 
Yimpany  persuaded  me  to  go  on.  The  next 
station,  she  said,  was  lier  station.  "  Stop 
there,"  she  suggested,  "  and  let  my  husband 
look  at  the  girl.  I  ought  not  perhaps  to  say 
it,  but  you  will  find  no  better  medical  man 
out  of  London."  I  took  the  good  creature's 
advice  gratefully.     What  else  could  I  do  ? ' 

'  What  would  you  have  done,'  Mountjoy 
inquired,  '  if  Ehoda  had  been  strong  enough 
to  get  to  the  end  of  the  journey  ?  ' 

'  I  should  have  gone  on  to  London,  and 
taken  refuge  in  a  lodging — you  were  in  town, 
as  I  believed,  and  my  father  might  relent  in 
time.  As  it  was,  I  felt  my  lonely  position 
keenly.  To  meet  with  kind  people,  like  Mr. 
Yimpany  and  his  wife,  was  a  real  blessing  to 


126  BUND  LOVE 

siicli  a  friendless  creature  as  I  am — to  say 
nothing  of  the  advantage  to  Ehoda,  who  is 
getting  better  every  day.  I  sliould  hke  you 
to  see  Mrs.  Yimpany,  if  she  is  at  liome.  She 
is  a  httle  formal  and  old-fashioned  in  her 
manner — but  I  am  sure  you  will  be  pleased 
with  her.  Ah!  you  look  round  the  room'! 
Tliey  are  poor,  miserably  poor  for  persons  in 
their  position,  these  worthy  friends  of  mine. 
I  have  had  the  greatest  difficulty  in  persuading 
them  to  let  me  contribute  my  share  towards 
the  household  expenses.  They  only  yielded 
when  I  threatened  to  go  to  the  inn.  You  are 
looking  very  serious,  Hugh.  Is  it  possible 
that  you  see  some  objection  to  my  staying  in 
this  house  ? ' 

The  drawing-room  door  was  softly  opened, 
at  the  moment  when  Iris  put  that  question. 
A  lady  appeared  on  the  threshold.  Seeing 
the  stranger,  she  turned  to  Iris. 


THE  REGISTERED  PACKET  127 

'  I  didn't  know,  dear  Miss  Henley,  that  you 
had  a  visitor.     Pray  pardon  my  intrusion.' 

The  voice  was  deep  ;  the  articulation  was 
clear ;  the  smile  presented  a  certain  modest 
dignity  which  gave  it  a  value  of  its  own. 
This  was  a  woman  who  could  make  such 
a  commonplace  thing  as  an  apology  worth 
listening  to.  Iris  stopped  her  as  she  was 
about  to  leave  the  room.  '  I  was  just  wishing 
for  you,'  she  said.  '  Let  me  introduce  my  old 
friend,  Mr.  Mountjoy.  Hugh,  this  is  the  lady 
who  has  been  so  kind  to  me; — Mrs.  Yimpany.' 

Hugh's  impulse,  under  the  circumstances, 
was  to  dispense  with  the  formahty  of  a  bow, 
.  and  to  shake  hands.  Mrs.  Yimpany  met  this 
friendly  advance  with  a  suavity  of  action  not 
often  seen  in  these  days  of  movement  without 
ceremony.  She  was  a  tali  shm  woman,  of  a 
.certain  age.  Art  had  so  cleverly  improved 
lier    complexion    that  it  almost   looked   like 


128  BLIND  LOVE 

nature.  Her  clieeks  had  lost  the  pkimpness 
of  youth,  but  her  hak  (thanks  agam  perhaps 
to  Art)  showed  no  signs  of  turning  grey.  The 
expression  of  her  large  dark  eyes — placed 
perhaps  a  little  too  near  to  her  high  aquiline 
nose — claimed  admiration  from  any  person 
who  was  so  fortunate  as  to  come  within  their 
range  of  view.  Her  hands,  long,  yellow,  and 
pitiably  thin,  were  used  with  a  grace  which 
checked  to  some  extent  tlieir  cruel  betrayal 
of  her  age.  Her  dress  had  seen  better  days, 
but  it  was  worn  with  an  air  wliicli  forbade  it 
to  look  actually  shabby.  The  faded  lace  that 
encircled  her  neck  fell  in  scanty  folds  over  her 
bosom.  She  sank  into  a  chair  by  Hugh's 
side.  '  It  was  a  great  pleasure  to  me,  Mr. 
Mountjoy,  to  offer  my  poor  services  to  Miss 
Henley ;  I  can't  tell  you  how  happy  her 
presence  makes  me  in  our  little  house.'  The 
compliment  was  addressed  to  Iris  with  every 
advantage  that  smiles  and  tones  could  offer. 


THE  REGISTERED  PACKET  129 

Oddly  artificial  as  it  undoubtedly  was,  Mrs. 
Yimpany's  manner  produced  nevertheless  an 
agreeable  impression.  Disposed  to  doubt  her 
at  first,  Mountjoy  found  tliat  she  was  winning 
her  way  to  a  favourable  change  in  his  opinion. 
She  so  far  interested  him,  that  he  began  to 
wonder  what  lier  early  life  might  have  been, 
when  she  was  young  and  handsome.  He 
looked  again  at  the  portraits  of  actresses  on 
the  walls,  and  the  plays  on  the  bookshelf — 
and  then  (when  she  was  speaking  to  Iris)  he 
stole  a  sly  glance  at  the  doctor's  wife.  Was 
it  possible  that  this  remarkable  woman  had 
once  been  an  actress?  He  attempted  to  put  the 
value  of  that  guess  to  the  test  by  means  of  a 
complimentary  allusion  to  the  prints. 

'  My  memory  as  a  play-goer  doesn^t 
extend  over  many  years,'  he  began  ;  '  but  I 
can  appreciate  the  historical  interest  of  your 
beautiful  prints.'  Mrs.  Vimpany  bowed  grace- 
fully— and   dumbly.     Mountjoy  tried   again. 

VOL.    I.  K 


I30  BLIND  LOVE 

'  One  doesn't  often  see  the  famous  actresses  of 
past  days,'  lie  proceeded,  '  so  well  represented 
on  the  Avails  of  an  English  house.' 

This  time,  he  had  spoken  to  better 
purpose.  Mrs.  Yimpany  answered  him  in 
words. 

'  I  have  many  pleasant  associations  with 
the  theatre,'  she  said,  'first  formed  in  the  time 
of  my  girlhood.' 

Mountjoy  waited  to  hear  something  more. 
Nothing  more  was  said.  Perhaps  this  reticent 
lady  disliked  looking  back  through  a  long 
interval  of  years,  or  perhaps  she  had  her 
reasons  for  leaving  Mountjoy's  guess  at  the 
truth  still  lost  in  doubt.  In  either  case,  she 
deliberately  dropped  the  subject.  Iris  took 
it  up.  Sitting  by  the  only  table  in  the  room, 
she  was  in  a  position  which  placed  her  exactly 
opposite  to  one  of  the  prints — the  magnificent 
portrait  of  Mrs.  Siddons  as  The  Tragic  Muse. 

'  I  wonder  if  Mrs.  Siddons  was  really  as 


THE  REGISTERED  PACKET  131 

beautiful  as  that  P  '  she  said,  pointing  to  the 
print.  '  Sir  Joshua  Eeynolds  is  reported  to 
have  sometimes  flattered  his  sitters.' 

Mrs.  Yimpany's  solemn  self-possessed  eyes 
suddenly  brightened ;  the  name  of  tlie  great 
actress  seemed  to  interest  her.  On  the  point, 
apparently,  of  speaking,  she  dropped  the 
subject  of  Mrs.  Siddons  as  she  had  dropped 
the  subject  of  the  theatre.  Mountjoy  was 
left  to  answer  Iris. 

'  We  are  none  of  us  old  enough,'  he 
reminded  her,  *  to  decide  whether  Sir  Joshua's 
brush  has  been  guilty  of  flattery  or  not.' 
He  turned  to  Mrs.  Yimpany,  and  attempted  to 
look  into  her  life  from  a  new  point  of  view. 
'When  Miss  Henley  was  so  fortunate  as  to 
make  your  acquaintance,'  he  said,  '  you  were 
travelHng  in  Ireland.  Was  it  your  first  visit 
to  that  unhappy  country? ' 

'  I  have  been  more  than  once  in  Ireland.' 

Having    again    deliberately    disappointed 

^2 


132  BLIND  LOVE 

Mountjoy,  she  was  assisted  in  keeping  clear 
of  the  subject  of  Ireland  by  a  fortunate  inter- 
ruption. It  was  the  hour  of  delivery  by  the 
afternoon-post.  The  servant  came  in  with  a 
small  sealed  packet,  and  a  slip  of  printed 
paper  in  her  hand. 

'It's  registered,  ma'am,'  the  woman  an- 
nounced. '  The  postman  says  you  are  to 
please  sign  this.  And  he  seems  to  be  in  a 
hurry.' 

She  placed  the  packet  and  the  slip  of 
paper  on  the  table,  near  the  inkstand. 
Having  signed  the  receipt,  Mrs.  Yimpany  took 
up  the  packet,  and  examined  the  address. 
She  instantly  looked  at  Iris,  and  looked  away 
again.  '  Will  you  excuse  me  for  a  moment  ? ' 
Saying  this  she  left  the  room,  without  opening 
the  packet. 

The  moment  the  door  closed  on  her,  Iris 
started  up,  and  hurried  to  Mountjoy. 

Oh,  Hugh,'  she  said,  '  I  saw  the  address  on 


THE  REGISTERED  PACKET 


m 


that  packet  when  the  servant  put  it  on  the 
table ! ' 

'  My  dear,  what  is  there  to  excite  you  in 
the  address  ?  ' 

'  Don't  speak  so  loud  !  She  may  be  listen- 
ing outside  the  door.' 

Not  only  the  words,  but  the  tone  in  which 
they  were  spoken,  amazed  Mountjoy.  'Your 
friend,  Mrs.  Yimpany  ! '  he  exclaimed. 

'Mrs.  Yimpany  was  afraid  to  open  the 
packet  in  our  presence,'  Iris  went  on  :  '  you 
must  have  seen  that.  The  handwriting  is 
familiar  to  me  ;  I  am  certain  of  the  person 
who  wrote  the  address.' 

'  Well  .^     And  who  is  the  person  ? ' 

She  whispered  in  his  ear : 

'  Lord  Harry.' 


134 


BUND  LOVE 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE    GAME  :    MOUNTJOY   LOSES 

\ 

-=^r^URPEISE  si- 
lenced Hugh 
for  the  mo- 
ment. Iris  un- 
derstood the 
look  that  he 
fixed  on  her, 
and  answered 
it.  'I  am  quite 
sure,'  she  told 
him,  '  of  what 
I  say.' 

^-_^  ?  5     "'^'^  Mountj  oy's 

well-balanced  mind  hesitated  at  rushing  to  a 
conclusion. 


THE   GAME:  MOUNTJOY  LOSES  135 

'  I  am  sure  you  are  convinced  of  what 
you  tell  me,'  he  said.  '  But  mistakes  do 
sometimes  lia]3pen  in  forming  a  judgment  of 
handwriting.' 

In  the  state  of  excitement  that  now 
possessed  her,  Iris  was  easily  irritated  ;  she 
was  angry  with  Hugh  for  only  supposing  that 
she  might  have  made  a  mistake.  He  had 
himself,  as  she  reminded  him,  seen  Lord 
Harry's  handwriting  in  past  days.  Was  it 
possible  to  be  mistaken  in  those  bold  thickly- 
written  characters,  with  some  of  the  letters  so 
quaintly  formed  ?  'Oh,  Hugh,  I  am  miserable 
enough  as  it  is,'  she  broke  out ;  '  don't  dis- 
tract me  by  disputing  what  I  know  !  Think 
of  a  woman  so  kind,  so  disinterested,  so 
charming — the  very  opposite  of  a  false  crea- 
ture— think  of  Mrs.  Yimpany  having  deceived 
me ! ' 

There  was  not  the  slightest  reason,  thus 
far,  for  placing  that  interpretation   on  what 


136  BLIND  LOVE 

had  happened.  Mountjoy  gently,  very  gently, 
remonstrated. 

'  My  dear,  we  really  don't  know  yet  that 
Mrs.  Vimpany  has  been  acting  under  Lord 
Harry's  instructions.  Wait  a  little  before  you 
suspect  your  fellow-traveller  of  offering  her 
services  for  the  purpose  of  deceiving  you.' 

Iris  was  angry  with  him  again :  '  Wliy 
did  Mrs.  Vimpany  never  tell  me  she  knew 
Lord  Harry  ?     Isn't  that  suspicious  ?  ' 

Mountjoy  smiled.  '  Let  me  put  a  question 
on  my  side,'  he  said.  'Did  you  tell  Mrs. 
Vimpany  you  knew  Lord  Harry  ?  '  Iris  made 
no  reply ;  her  face  spoke  for  her.  '  Well, 
then,'  he  urged,  '  is  your  silence  suspicious  ? 
I  am  far,  mind,  from  saying  that  this  may 
not  be  a  very  unpleasant  discovery.  Only 
let  us  be  sure  first  that  we  are  right.' 

With  most  of  a  woman's  merits.  Miss 
Henley  had  many  of  a  woman's  faults.  Still 
holding  to  her  own  conclusion,  she  asked  how 


THE   GAME:  MOUNTJOY  LOSES  137 

they  could  expect  to  be  sure  of  anything  if 
they  addressed  their  inquiries  to  a  person  who 
had  already  deceived  them. 

Mountjoy's  inexhaustible  indulgence  still 
made  allowances  for  her.  '  When  Mrs.  Yim- 
pany  comes  back,'  he  said,  '  I  will  find  an 
opportunity  of  mentioning  Lord  Harry's  name. 
If  she  tells  us  that  she  knows  him,  there  will 
be  good  reason  in  that  one  circumstance, 
as  it  seems  to  me,  for  continuing  to  trust 
her.' 

'Suppose  she  shams  ignorance,'  Iris  per- 
sisted, '  and  looks  as  if  she  had  never  heard 
of  his  name  before  ?  ' 

'  In  that  case,  I  shall  own  that  I  was 
wrong,  and  shall  ask  you  to  forgive  me.' 

The  finer  and  better  nature  of  Iris 
recovered  its  influence  at  these  words.  '  It 
is  I  who  ought  to  beg  pardon,'  she  said.  '  Oh, 
I"  w^ish  I  could  think  before  I  speak  ;  how 
insolent  and  ill-tempered  I  have  been  !     But 


138  BLIND  LOVE 

suppose  I  turn  out  to  be  right,  Hugh,  what 
will  you  do  then  ?  ' 

'  Then,  my  dear,  it  will  be  my  duty  to 
take  you  and  your  maid  away  from  this 
house,  and   to  tell  your  father  what  serious 

reasons  there  are '     He  abruptly  checked 

himself.  Mrs.  Yimpany  had  returned  ;  she 
was  in  perfect  possession  of  her  lofty  cour- 
tesy, sweetened  by  the  modest  dignity  of 
her  smile. 

'  I  have  left  you,  Miss  Henley,  in  such  good 
company,'  she  said,  with  a  gracious  inclina- 
tion of  her  head  in  the  direction  of  Mountjoy, 
'  that  I  need  hardly  repeat  my  apologies — 
unless,  indeed,  I  am  interrupting  a  confidential 
conversation.' 

It  was  possible  that  Iris  might  have 
betrayed  herself,  when  the  doctor's  wife  had 
looked  at  her  after  examining  the  address  on 
the  packet.  In  this  case  Mrs.  Vimpany's 
allusion  to  '  a  confidential  conversation'  would 


THE   GAME:  MOUNTJOY  LOSES  139 

have  operated  as  a  warning  to  a  person  of 
experience  in  the  by-ways  of  deceit.  Mount- 
joy's  utmost  exertion  of  cunning  was  not 
capable  of  protecting  him  on  such  conditions 
as  these.  The  opportunity  of  trying  his 
proposed  experiment  with  Lord  Harry's  name 
seemed  to  have  presented  itself  already.  He 
rashly  seized  on  it. 

'You  have  interrupted  nothing  that  was 
confidential,'  he  hastened  to  assure  Mrs. 
Yimpany.  '  We  have  been  speaking  of  a 
reckless  young  gentleman,  who  is  an  ac- 
quaintance of  ours.  If  what  I  hear  is  true, 
he  has  already  become  public  property ;  his 
adventures  have  found  their  way  into  some  of 
the  newspapers.' 

Here,  if  Mrs.  Yimpany  had  answered 
Hugh's  expectations,  she  ought  to  have  asked 
who  the  young  gentleman  was.  She  merely 
listened  in  polite  silence. 

With  a  woman's  quickness  of  perception, 


I40  BUND  LOVE 

Iris  saw  that  Mountjoy  had  not  only  pounced 
on  his  opportunity  preinaturely,  but  had 
spoken  with  a  downright  directness  of  aUu- 
sion  which  must  at  once  have  put  such  a 
ready-witted  person  as  Mrs.  Yimpany  on  her 
guard.  In  trying  to  prevent  him  from  pur- 
suing his  unfortunate  experiment  in  social 
diplomacy,  Iris  innocently  repeated  Mount- 
joy's  own  mistake.  She,  too,  seized  her 
opportunity  prematurely.  That  is  to  say,  she 
was  rash  enough  to  change  the  subject. 

'  You  were  talking  just  now,  Hugh,  of  our 
friend's  adventures,'  she  said ;  '  I  am  afraid 
you  will  find  yourself  involved  in  an  adven- 
ture of  no  very  agreeable  kind,  if  you  engage 
a  bed  at  the  inn.  I  never  saw  a  more 
wretched -looking  place.' 

It  was  one  of  Mrs.  Yimpany 's  many  merits 
that  she  seldom  neglected  an  opportunity  of 
setting  her  friends  at  their  ease. 

'  No,  no,  dear  Miss  Henley,'  she  hastened 


THE  GAME:  MOUNTJOY  LOSES  141 

to  say  ;  '  tlie  inn  is  really  a  more  clean  and 
comfortable  place  than  you  suppose.  A  hard 
bed  and  a  scarcity  of  furniture  are  tlie  worst 
evils  which  your  friend  has  to  fear.  Do  you 
know,'  she  continued,  addressing  herself  to 
Mountjoy,  '  that  I  was  reminded  of  a  friend  of 
mine,"  when  you  spoke  just  now  of  the  young 
gentleman  whose  adventures  are  in  the  news- 
papers. Is  it  possible  that  you  referred  to 
the  brother  of  the  present  Earl  of  Norland  ? 
A  handsome  young  Irishman — with  whom 
I  first  became  acquainted  many  years  since. 
Am  I  right  in  supposing  that  you  and  Miss 
Henley  know  Lord  Harry  ?  '  she  asked. 

What  more  than  this  could  an  unpre- 
judiced mind  require  ?  Mrs.  Yimpany  had 
set  herself  right  with  a  simplicity  that  defied 
suspicion.  Iris  looked  at  Mountjoy.  He 
appeared  to  know  when  he  was  beaten. 
Having  acknowledged  that  Lord  Harry  was 
the  young  gentleman  of  whom  he  and  Miss 


142  BLIND  LOVE 

Henley  had  been  speaking,  lie  rose  to  take 
leave. 

After  what  had  passed,  Iris  felt  the  neces- 
sity of  speaking  privately  to  Hugh.  The 
necessary  excuse  presented  itself  in  the 
remote  situation  of  the  inn.  '  You  will  never 
find  your  way  back,'  she  said,  '  through  the 
labyrinth  of  crooked  streets  in  this  old  town. 
Wait  for  me  a  minute,  and  I  will  be  your 
guide.' 

Mrs.  Vimpany  protested.  '  My  dear  !  let 
the  servant  show  the  way.' 

Iris  held  gaily  to  her  resolution,  and  ran 
away  to  her  room.  Mrs.  Vimpany  yielded 
with  her  best  grace.  Miss  Henley's  motive 
could  hardly  have  been  plainer  to  her,  if  Miss 
Henley  had  confessed  it  herself.  '  What  a 
charming  girl ! '  the  doctor's  amiable  wife 
said  to  Mountjoy,  when  they  were  alone.  '  If 
I  were  a  man,  Miss  Iris  is  just  the  young  lady 
that  I  should  fall  in  love  with.'     She  looked 


THE   GAME:  MOUNTJOY  LOSES  143 

significantly  at  Mountjoy.  Nothing  came  of 
it.  She  went  on  :  '  Miss  Henley  mnst  have 
had  many  opportunities  of  being  married  ; 
but  the  right  man  has,  I  fear,  not  yet  pre- 
sented himself.'  Once  more  her  eloquent 
eyes  consulted  Mountjoy,  and  once  more 
nothing  came  of  it.  Some  women  are  easily 
discouraged.  Impenetrable  Mrs.  Vimpany 
was  one  of  the  other  women ;  she  had  not 
done  with  Mountjoy  yet — she  invited  him  to 
dinner  on  the  next  day. 

'Our  early  hour  is  three  o'clock,'  she 
said  modestly.  '  Pray  join  us.  I  hope 
to  have  the  pleasure  of  introducing  my 
husband.' 

Mountjoy  had  his  reasons  for  wishing  to 
see  the  husband.  As  he  accepted  the  invi- 
tation. Miss  Henley  returned  to  accompany 
him  to  the  inn. 

Iris  put  the  inevitable  question  to  Hugh 
as  soon  as  they  were  out  of  the  doctor's  house 


144  BUND  LOVE 

— '  What  do  you  say  of  Mrs.  Yimpany, 
now  ?  ' 

'  I  say  that  she  must  Jiave  been  once  an 
actress,'  Mount]  oy  answered  ;  '  and  tliat  she 
carries  her  experience  of  the  stage  into  private 
hfe.' 

'  What  do  you  propose  to  do  next  ?  ' 

'  I  propose  to  wait  and  see  Mrs.  Vimpany's 
husband  to-morrow.' 

'Why?' 

'  Mrs.  Yimpany,  my  dear,  is  too  clever  for 
me.  If—  observe,  please,  that  I  do  her  the 
justice  of  putting  it  in  that  way — if  she  is 
really  Lord  Harry's  creature,  employed  to  keep 
watch  on  you,  and  to  inform  him  of  your  next 
place  of  residence  in  England,  I  own  that  she 
has  completely  deceived  me.  In  that  case  it 
is  just  possible  that  the  husband  is  not  such  a 
fmished  and  perfect  humbug  as  the  wife.  I 
may  be  able  to  see  through  him.  I  can  but 
try.' 


THE   GAME :  MOUNTJOY  LOSES  145 

Iris  sighed.     '  I  almost  hope  3^011  may  not 
succeed,'  she  said. 

Mountjoy     was    puzzled    and    made    no 
attempt  to  conceal  it. 

'  I  thought  you  only  wanted  to  get  at  the 
truth,'  he  answered. 

'My  mind  might  be  easier,  perhaps,  if  I 
was  left  in  doubt,'  she  suggested.  '  A  perverse 
way  of  thinking  has  set  up  my  poor  opinion 
against  yours.  But  I  am  getting  back  to  my 
better  sense.  I  believe  you  were  entirely  right 
when  you  tried  to  prevent  me  from  rushing  to 
conclusions  ;  it  is  more  than  likely  that  I  have 
done  Mrs.  Yimpany  an  injustice.  Oh,  Hugh, 
I  ought  to  keep  a  friend — I  who  have  so  few 
friends — when  I  have  got  one !  And  there 
is  another  feeling  in  me  which  I  must  not 
conceal  from  you.  When  I  remember  Lord 
Harry's  noble  conduct  in  trying  to  save  poor 
Arthur,  I  cannot  believe  him  capable  of  such 
hateful  deceit  as  consenting  to  our  separation, 

VOL.  I.  L 


146  BLIND  LOVE 

and  then  having  me  secretly  watched  by  a 
spy.  What  monstrous  inconsistency !  Can 
anybody  beheve  it  ?  Can  anybody  account 
for  it?' 

'  I  think  I  can  account  for  it,  Iris,  if  you 
will  let  me  make  the  attempt.  You  are  mis- 
taken, to  begin  with.' 

'  How  am  I  mistaken  ?  ' 

'  You  shall  see.  There  is  no  such  creature 
as  a  perfectly  consistent  human  being  on  the 
face  of  the  earth — and,  strange  as  it  may  seem 
to  you,  the  human  beings  themselves  are  not 
aware  of  it.  The  reason  for  this  curious  state 
of  things  is  not  far  to  seek.  How  can  people 
who  are  ignorant — as  we  see  every  day — of 
their  own  characters  be  capable  of  correctly 
estimating  the  characters  of  others?  Even 
the  influence  of  their  rehgion  fails  to  open 
their  eyes  to  the  truth.  In  tlie  Prayer  which 
is  the  most  precious  possession  of  Christendom 
their  lips  repeat  the  entreaty  that  they  may 


THE   GAME:  MOUNTJOY  LOSES  1^7 

not  be  led  into  temptation — but  their  minds 
fail  to  draw  the  inference.  If  that  pathetic  peti- 
tion means  anything,  it  means  that  virtuous  men 
and  women  are  capable  of  becoming  vicious 
men  and  women,  if  a  powerful  temptation  puts 
them  to  the  test.  Every  Sunday,  devout 
members  of  the  congregation  in  church — 
models  of  excellence  in  their  own  estimation, 
and  in  the  estimation  of  their  neighbours — 
declare  that  they  have  done  those  things  which 
they  ought  not  to  have  done,  and  that  there 
is  no  health  in  them.  Will  you  believe  that 
they  are  encouraged  by  their  Prayer-books  to 
present  this  sad  exposure  of  the  frailty  of  their 
own  admirable  characters  ?  How  inconsistent 
— and  yet  how  entirely  true  !  Lord  Harry, 
as  you  rightly  say,  behaved  nobly  in  trying  to 
save  my  dear  lost  brother.  He  ought,  as  you 
think,  and  as  other  people  think,  to  be  consis- 
tently noble,  after  that,  in  all  his  thoughts  and 
actions,  to  the  end  of  his  life.     Suppose  that 


148  BLIND  LOVE 

temptation  does  try  him — such  temptation, 
Iris,  as  you  innocently  present — why  doesn't 
he  offer  a  superhuman  resistance  ?  You 
might  as  well  ask.  Why  is  he  a  mortal  man  ? 
How  inconsistent,  how  improbable,  that  he 
should  have  tendencies  to  evil  in  him,  as  well 
as  tendencies  to  good !  Ah,  I  see  you  don't 
like  this.  It  would  be  infinitely  more  agree- 
able (wouldn't  it  ?)  if  Lord  Harry  was  one  of 
the  entirely  consistent  characters,  which  are 
sometimes  presented  in  works  of  fiction.  Our 
good  English  readers  are  charmed  with  the 
man,  the  woman,  or  the  child,  who  is  intro- 
duced to  them  by  the  kind  novelist  as  a 
being  without  faults.  Do  they  stop  to  con- 
sider whether  this  is  a  true  picture  of  human- 
ity ?  It  would  be  a  terrible  day  for  the  book, 
if  they  ever  did  that.  But  the  book  is  in  no 
danger.  The  readers  would  even  fail  to  dis- 
cover the  falseness  of  the  picture,  if  they  were 
presented  to  themselves  as  perfect  characters. 


THE  GAME:  MOUNTJOY  LOSES  149 

"  We  mustn't  say  so,  but  liow  wonderfully  like 
us !  "     There  would  be  the  only  impression 
produced.    I  am  not  trying  to  dishearten  you  ; 
I  want  to  encourage  you  to  look  at  humanity 
from  a  wider  and  truer  point  of  view.    •  Do 
not  be  too  readily  depressed,  if  you  fmd  your 
faith    shaken   in    a   person   whom   you  have 
hitherto   believed  to  be  good.     That  person 
has  been  led  into  temptation.     Wait  till  time 
shows  you  that  the  evil  influence  is  not  ever- 
lasting, and  that  the  good  influence  will  in- 
consistently  renew    your   faith,    out    of    the 
very  depths  of  your  despair.     Humanity,  in 
general,  is  neither  perfectly  good  nor  perfectly 
wicked  :  take  it  as  you  find  it.    Is  this  a  hard 
lesson  to  learn  ?     Well !   it's  easy  to  do  what 
other  people  do  under  similar  circumstances. 
Listen   to  the  unwelcome   truth   to-day,   my 
dear  ;  and  forget  it  to-morrow.' 

They  parted  at  the  door  of  the  inn. 


50  BLIND  LOVE 


CHAPTER  V 

THE   game:     MOUNTJOY   PLAYS  A   NEW   CARD 

^E.  YIMPANY  (of  the  College  of  Sur- 
geons) was  a  burly  man,  heavily 
built  from  head  to  foot.  His  bold 
round  eyes  looked  straight  at  his  fellow-crea- 
tures with  an  expression  of  impudent  good 
humour ;  his  whiskers  were  bushy,  his  hands 
were  big,  his  lips  were  thick,  his  legs  were 
solid.  Add  to  this  a  broad  sunburnt  face, 
and  a  grey  coat  with  wide  tails,  a  waistcoat 
with  a  check  pattern,  and  leather  riding- 
gaiters — and  no  stranger  could  have  failed  to 
mistake  Mr.  Yimpany  for  a  farmer  of  the  old 
school.  He  was  proud  of  the  false  impression 
that  he  created.     'Nature  built  me  to  be  a 


mount; OY  PLAYS  A   NEW  CARD  151 

farmer,'  he  used  to  say.  '  But  my  poor  foolish 
old  mother  was  a  lady  by  birth,  and  she  in- 
sisted on  her  son  being  a  professional  man.  I 
hadn't  brains  for  the  Law,  or  money  for  the 
Army,  or  morals  for  the  Church.  And  here  I 
am  a  country  doctor — the  one  representative 
of  slavery  left  in  the  nineteenth  century.  You 
may  not  believe  me,  but  T  never  see  a 
labourer  at  the  plough  that  I  don't  envy 
him.' 

This  was  the  husband  of  the  elegant  lady 
with  the  elaborate  manners.  This  was  the 
man  who  received  Mountjoy  with  a  '  Glad  to 
see  you,  sir,'  and  a  shake  of  the  hand  that 
hurt  him. 

'  Coarse  fare,'  said  Mr.  Vimpany,  carving 
a  big  joint  of  beef;  'but  I  can't  afford  any- 
thing better.  Only  a  pudding  to  follow,  and 
a  glass  of  glorious  old  sherry.  Miss  Henley 
is  good  enough  to  excuse  it — and  my  wife's 
used   to   it — and   you  will   put   up  with   it, 


152  BLIND  LOVE 

Mr.  Mount] oy,  if  you  are  half  as  amiable  as 
you  look.  I'm  an  old-fashioned  man.  The 
pleasure  of  a  glass  of  wine  with  you,  sir.' 

Hugh's  first  experience  of  the  '  glorious 
old  sherry '  led  him  to  a  discovery,  which 
proved  to  be  more  important  than  he  was 
disposed  to  consider  it  at  the  moment.  He 
merely  observed,  with  some  amusement,  that 
Mr.  Yimpany  smacked  liis  lips  in  hearty  a]3- 
proval  of  the  worst  sherry  that  his  guest  had 
ever  tasted.  Here,  plainly  self-betrayed,  Avas 
a  medical  man  who  was  an  exception  to  a 
general  rule  in  the  profession — here  was  a 
doctor  ignorant  of  the  difference  between  good 
wine  and  bad ! 

Both  the  ladies  were  anxious  to  know  how 
Mountjoy  had  passed  the  night  at  the  inn. 
He  had  only  time  to  say  that  there  was 
nothing  to  complain  of,  when  Mr.  Yimpany 
burst  into  an  explosion  of  laughter. 

'  Oh,  but  you  must  have  had  something  to 


MOUNTJOV  PLAYS  A   NEW  CARD  153 

complain  of ! '  said  the  big  doctor.  '  I  would 
bet  a  hundred,  if  I  could  afford  it,  that  the 
landlady  tried  to  poison  you  with  her  sour 
French  wine.' 

'  Do  you  speak  of  the  claret  at  the  inn, 
after  having  tasted  it?'  Mountjoy  asked. 

'  What  do  you  take  me  for  ? '  cried  Mr. 
Vimpany.  'After  all  I  have  heard  of  that 
claret,  I  am  not  fool  enough  to  try  it  myself, 
I  can  tell  you.'  Mountjoy  received  this 
answer  in  silence.  The  doctor's  ignorance 
and  tlie  doctor's  prejudice,  in  the  matter  of 
wine,  had  started  a  new  train  of  thought  in 
Hugh's  mind,  which  threatened  serious  conse- 
quences to  Mr.  Vimpany  himself.  There  was 
a  pause  at  the  table ;  nobody  spoke.  The 
doctor  saw  condemnation  of  his  rudeness  ex- 
pressed in  his  wife's  face.  He  made  a  rough 
apology  to  Mountjoy,  who  was  still  pre- 
occupied. 'No  offence,  I  hope?  It's  in  the 
nature  of  me,  sir,  to  speak  my  mind.     If  I 


154  BLIND  LOVE 

could  fawn  and  flatter,  I  should  have  got  on 
better  in  my  profession.  I'm  what  they  call 
a  rough  diamond.     No  offence,  I  say  ?  ' 

'  None  whatever,  Mr.  Vimpany.' 

'  That's  right !  Try  another  glass  of 
sherry.' 

Mountjoy  took  the  sherry. 

Iris  looked  at  him,  lost  in  surprise.  It 
was  unlike  Hugh  to  be  interested  in  a 
stranger's  opinion  of  wine.  It  was  unlike 
him  to  drink  wine  which  was  evidently  not 
to  his  taste.  And  it  was  especially  unlike  his 
customary  courtesy  to  let  himself  fall  into 
thought  at  dinner-time,  when  there  were  other 
persons  at  the  table.  Was  he  ill  ?  Impossible 
to  look  at  him,  and  not  see  that  he  was  in 
perfect  health.     What  did  it  mean  ? 

Finding  Mountjoy  inattentive,  Mr.  Vim- 
pany addressed  himself  to  Iris. 

'  I  had  to  ride  hard,  Miss  Henley,  to  get 
home  in  time  for  dinner.     There  are  patients, 


MOUNTJOY  PLAYS  A   NEW  CARD  155 

I  must  tell  you,  who  send  for  the  doctor,  and 
then  seem  to  thmk  they  know  more  about  it 
than  the  very  man  whom  they  have  called  in 
to  cure  them.  It  isn't  he  who  tells  them 
what  their  illness  is ;  it's  they  who  tell  him. 
They  dispute  about  the  medical  treatment 
that's  best  for  them,  and  the  one  thing  they 
are  never  tired  of  doing  is  talking  about  their 
symptoms.  It  was  an  old  man's  gabble  that 
kept  me  late  to-day.  However,  the  Squire, 
as  they  call  him  in  these  parts,  is  a  patient 
with  a  long  purse  ;  I  am  obliged  to  submit.' 

'  A  gentleman  of  the  old  school,  dear  Miss 
Henley,'  Mrs.  Vimpany  explained.  '  Im- 
mensely rich.  Is  he  better  .^ '  she  asked, 
turning  to  her  husband. 

'  Better  ?  '  cried  the  outspoken  doctor. 
'  Pooh !  there's  nothing  the  matter  with  him 
but  gluttony.  He  went  to  London,  and  con- 
sulted a  great  man,  a  humbug  with  a  handle 
to  his  name.     The  famous  physician  got  rid 


156  BUND  LOVE 

of  him  in  no  time — sent  him  abroad  to  boil 
himself  in   foreign   baths.      He   came   home 
again  worse  than  ever,  and  consulted  poor 
Me.     I  found  him  at  dinner — a  perfect  feast, 
I  give  you  my  word  of  honour ! — and  the  old 
fool  gorging  himself  till  he  was  black  in  the 
face.     His  wine,  I  should  have  said,  was  not 
up  to  the  mark ;   wanted  body  and  flavour, 
you  know.     Ah,  Mr.  Mountjoy,  this  seems  to 
interest  you ;   reminds  you  of  the  landlady's 
wine — eh?     Well,  sir,  how  do  you   think  I 
treated  the  Squire  .^     Emptied  his  infirm  old  • 
inside  with  an  emetic — and  there  he  was  on 
his  legs  again!     Whenever  he  overeats  him- 
self, he  sends  for  me ;  and  pays  liberally.     I 
ought  to  be  grateful  to  him,  and  I  am.    Upon 
my  soul,  I  believe  I  should  be  in  the  bank- 
'ruptcy  court  but  for  the  Squire's   stomach. 
Look  at  my  wife  !    She's  sliocked  at  me.     We 
ought   to   keep   up   appearances,   my   dear? 
Not  I !     When  I  am  poor,  I  say  I  am  poor. 


MOUNTJOY  PLAYS  A   NEW  CARD  157 

When  I  cure  a  patient,  I  make  no  mystery  of 
it  ;  everybody's  welcome  to  know  how  it's 
(lone.  Don't  be  down-hearted,  Arabella ; 
nature  never  meant  3^our  husband  for  a  doctor, 
and  there's  the  long  and  the  short  of  it. 
Another  glass  of  sherry,  Mr.  Mountjoy  ?  ' 

All  social  ceremonies — includino^  the 
curious  Enghsh  custom  which  sends  the 
ladies  upstairs,  after  dinner,  and  leaves  the 
gentlemen  at  the  table — found  a  devoted 
adherent  in  Mrs.  Yimpany,  She  rose  as  if 
she  had  been  presiding  at  a  banquet,  and  led 
Miss  Henley  affectionately  to  the  drawing- 
room.  Iris  glanced  at  Hugh.  No  :  his  mind 
was  not  at  ease  yet ;  the  preoccupied  look 
had  not  left  his  face. 

Jovial  Mr.  Vimpany  pushed  the  bottle 
across  the  table  to  his  guest,  and  held  out  a 
handful  of  big  black  cigars. 

'  Now  for  the  juice  of  the  grape,'  he  cried, 
*  and  the  best  cic^ar  in  all  Endand  ! ' 


158  BLIND  LOVE 

He  had  just  filled  his  glass,  and  struck  a 
light  for  his  cigar,  when  the  servant  came  in 
with  a  note.  Some  men  relieve  their  sense  of 
indignation  in  one  way,  and  some  in  another. 
The  doctor's  form  of  relief  was  an  oath.* 
'  Talk  about  slavery ! '  he  shouted.  '  Find  me 
such  a  slave  in  all  Africa  as  a  man  in  my 
profession.  There  isn't  an  hour  of  the  day 
or  night  that  he  can  call  his  own.  Here's 
a  stupid  old  woman  with  an  asthma,  who  has 
got  another  spasmodic  attack — and  I  must 
leave  my  dinner-table  and  my  friend,  just  as 
we  are  enjoying  ourselves.  I  have  half  a  mind 
not  to  go.' 

The  inattentive  guest  suddenly  set  himself 
right  in  his  host's  estimation.  Hugh  remon- 
strated with  an  appearance  of  interest  in  the 
case,  which  the  doctor  interpreted  as  a  com- 
pliment to  himself:  'Oh,  Mr.  Vimpany, 
humanity !  humanity  ! ' 

'  Oh,  Mr.  Mount] oy,  money  !  money  ! '  the 


MOUNTJOY  PLAYS  A   NEW  CARD         159 

facetious  doctor  answered.  '  The  old  lady  is 
our  Mayor's  mother,  sir.  You  don't  seem  to 
be  quick  at  taking  a  joke.  Make  your  mind 
easy ;  I  shall  pocket  my  fee.' 

As  soon  as  he  had  closed  the  door,  Hugh 
Mountjoy  uttered  a  devout  ejaculation. 
'  Thank  God ! '  he  said — and  walked  up  and 
down  the  room,  free  to  think  without  inter- 
ruption at  last. 

The  subject  of  his  meditations  was  the 
influence  of  intoxication,  in  disclosing  the 
hidden  weaknesses  and  vices  of  a  man's 
character  by  exhibiting  them  just  as  they  are, 
released  from  the  restraint  which  he  exercises 
over  himself  when  he  is  sober.  That  there 
was  a  weak  side,  and  probably  a  vicious  side, 
in  Mr.  Yimpany's  nature  it  was  hardly  possible 
to  doubt.  His  blustering  good  liumour,  his 
audacious  self-conceit,  the  tones  of  his  voice, 
the  expression  in  his  eyes,  all  revealed  him 
(to  use  one  expressive  word)  as  a  humbug. 


i6o  BLIND  LOVE 

Let  drink  subtly  deprive  him  of  his  capacity 
for  self-concealment,  and  the  true  nature  of 
his  wife's  association  with  Lord  Harry  might 
sooner  or  later  show  itself — say,  in  after- 
dinner  talk,  under  skilful  management.  The 
right  method  of  entrapping  him  into  a  state  of 
intoxication  (which  might  have  presented 
serious  difficulties  under  other  circumstances) 
was  suggested,  partly  by  his  ignorance  of  the 
difference  between  good  wine  and  bad,  and 
partly  by  Mountjoy's  knowledge  of  the 
excellent  quality  of  the  landlady's  claret.  He 
had  recognised,  as  soon  as  he  tasted  it,  that 
finest  vintage  of  Bordeaux,  which  conceals  its 
true  strength — to  a  gross  and  ignorant  taste 
— under  the  exquisite  delicacy  of  its  flavour. 
Encourage  Mr.  Yimpany,  by  means  of  a  dinner 
at  the  inn,  to  give  his  opinion  as  a  man  whose 
judgment  in  claret  was  to  be  seriously  con- 
sulted— and  permit  him  also  to  discover  that 
Hugh  was  rich  enouo^h  to  have  been  able  to 


MOUNTJOY  PLAYS  A   NEW  CARD  16 1 

buy  the  wine — and  the  attainment  of  the  end 
in  view  woidd  be  simply  a  question  of  time. 
There  was  certainly  the  chance  to  be  reckoned 
with,  that  his  thick  head  might  prove  to  be 
too  strong  for  the  success  of  the  experiment. 
Mountjoy  determined  to  try  it,  and  did  try  it 
nevertheless. 

Mr.  Yimpany  returned  from  his  medical 
errand,  thoroughly  well  satisfied  with  himself. 

*  The  Mayor's  mother  has  reason  to  thank 
you,  sir,'  he  announced.  'If  you  hadn't 
hurried  me  away,  the  wretched  old  creature 
would  have  been  choked.  A  regular  stand-up 
fight,  by  Jupiter,  between  death  and  the 
doctor  ! — and  the  doctor  has  won  !  Give  me 
the  reward  of  merit.     Pass  the  bottle.' 

He  took  up  the  decanter,  and  looked 
at  it. 

'  Why,  what  liave  you  been  about  ?  '  he 
asked.  '  I  made  up  my  mind  that  I  should 
want  the  key  of  the  cellar  when  I  came  back, 

VOL.  I.  M 


i62  BLIND  LOVE 

and  I  don't  believe  you  have  drunk  a  drop  in 
my  absence.     What  does  it  mean  ?  ' 

'  It  means  that  I  am  not  worthy  of  your 
sherry,'  Mouritjoy  answered.  '  The  Spanish 
wines  are  too  strong  for  my  weak  digestion.' 

Mr.  Yimpany  burst  into  one  of  his  explo- 
sions of  laughter.  '  You  miss  the  landlady's 
vinegar — eh  ? ' 

'  Yes,  I  do !  Wait  a  minute,  doctor ;  I 
have  a  word  to  say  on  my  side — and,  like  you, 
I  mean  what  I  say.  The  landlady's  vinegar  is 
some  of  the  finest  Chateau  Margaux  I  have 
ever  met  with— thrown  away  on  ignorant 
people  who  are  quite  unworthy  of  it.' 

The  doctor's  natural  insolence  showed 
itself.  '  You  have  bought  this  wonderful 
wine,  of  course  ?  '  he  said  satirically. 

'That,'  Mountjoy  answered,  '  is  just  what 
I  have  done.' 

For  once  in  his  life,  Mr.  Yimpany's  self- 
sufficient  readiness  of  speech  failed  him.     He 


•      MOUNTJOV  PLAYS  A    NEW  CARD  163 

stared  at  liis  guest  in  dumb  amazement. 
On  this  occasion,  Mountjoy  improved  the 
opportunity  to  good  purpose.  Mr.  Vimpany 
accepted  witli  the  utmost  readiness  an  invita- 
tion to  dine,  on  the  next  day,  at  the  inn.  But 
he  made  a  condition.  '  In  case  I  don't  agree 
with  you  about  that  Chateau — what-you-call- 
it,'  he  said,  '  you  won't  mind  my  sending 
home  for  a  bottle  of  sherry  ?  ' 

The  next  event  of  the  day  was  a  visit  to 
the  most  interesting  monument  of  antiquity 
in  the  town.  In  the  absence  of  the  doctor, 
caused  by  professional  engagements,  Miss 
Henley  took  Mountjoy  to  see  the  old  church 
— and  Mrs.  Yimpany  accompanied  them,  as  a 
mark  of  respect  to  Miss  Henley's  friend. 

When  there  was  a  chance  of  being  able  to 
speak  confidentially,  Iris  was  eager  in  praising 
the  doctor's  wife.  '  You  can't  imagine,  Hugh, 
how  agreeable  she  has  been,  and  how  entirely 
she   has   convinced   me   that   I   was   wron^r, 

M  2 


I64  BLIND   LOVE 

shamefully  wrong,  in  thinking  of  her  as  I  did. 
She  sees  that  you  dislike  her,  and  yet  she 
speaks  so  nicely  of  you.  *'  Your  clever  friend 
enjoys  your  society,"  she  said  ;  '•  pray  accom- 
pany me  when  I  take  him  to  see  the  church." 
How  unselfish ! ' 

Mountjoy  kept  his  own  counsel.  The 
generous  impulses  which  sometimes  led  Iris 
astray  were,  as  he  well  knew,  beyond  the 
reach  of  remonstrance.  His  own  opinion 
of  Mrs.  Vimpany  still  pronounced  steadily 
against  her.  Prepared  for  discoveries,  on  the 
next  day,  which  might  prove  too  serious  to 
be  trifled  with,  he  now  did  his  best  to  provide 
for  future  emergencies. 

After  first  satisfying  himself  that  there 
was  nothing  in  the  present  state  of  the  maid's 
health  which  need  detain  her  mistress  at 
Honeybuzzard,  he  next  completed  his  pre- 
parations by  returning  to  the  inn,  and  writing 
to  Mr.  Henley.     With  strict  regard  to  truth, 


MOUNTJOY  PLAYS  A   NEW  CARD         165 

his  letter  presented  the  daughter's  claim  on 
the  father  under  a  new  point  of  view.  What- 
ever the  end  of  it  might  be,  Mr.  Henley  was 
requested  to  communicate  his  intentions  by 
telegraph.  '  Will  you  receive  Iris  ? '  was  the 
question  submitted.  The  answer  expected 
was  :  '  Yes  '  or  '  No.' 


166  BLIND  LOVE 


CHAPTER   VI 

THE    GAME  :     MOUNTJOY   WI^'S    * 

E.  HENLEY'S   telegram   arrived  at 
the  inn  the  next  morning. 

He  was  wilhng  to  receive  his 
daughter,  but  not  unreservedly.  The  mes- 
sage was  characteristic  of  the  man  :  '  Yes — 
on  trial.'  Mountjoy  was  not  shocked,  was  not 
even  surprised.  He  knew  that  the  successful 
speculations,  by  means  of  which  Mr.  Henley 
had  accumulated  his  wealth,  had  raised  against 
him  enemies,  who  had  spread  scandalous  re- 
ports which  had  never  been  completely  refuted. 
The  silent  secession  of  friends,  in  whose 
fidelity  he  trusted,  had  hardened  the  man's 
heart  and  embittered  his  nature.     Strangers 


THE   GAME:  MOUNTJOY  WINS  167 

in  distress,  who  appealed  to  the  rich  retired 
merchant  for  help,  found  in  their  excellent 
references  to  character  the  worst  form  of 
.persuasion  that  they  could  have  adopted. 
Paupers  witliout  a  rag  of  reputation  left  to 
cover  them,  were  the  objects  of  charity  whom 
Mr.  Henley  relieved.  When  he  was  asked  to 
justify  his  conduct,  he  said  :  '  I  have  a  sym- 
pathy with  bad  characters — I  am  one  of  them 
myself.' 

With  the  arrival  of  the  dinner-hour  the 
doctor  appeared,  in  no  very  amiable  humour, 
at  the  inn. 

'  Another  hard  da3^'s  work/  he  said ;  '  I 
should  sink  under  it,  if  I  hadn't  a  prospect  of 
getting  rid  of  my  practice  here.  London — or 
the  neighbourhood  of  London  —  there's  the 
right  place  for  a  man  like  Me.  •  Well? 
Where's  the  wonderful  wine  ?  Mind  !  I'm 
Tom-Tell-Truth  ;  if  I  don't  like  your  French 
tipple,  I  shall  say  so.' 


1 68  BLIND  LOVE 

The  inn  possessed  no  claret  glasses ;  they 
drank  the  grand  wine  in  tumblers  as  if  it  had 
been  vin  ordinaire. 

Mr.  Yimj)any  showed  that  he  was  ac- 
quainted with  the  formalities  proper  to  the 
ceremony  of  tasting.  He  filled  his  makeshift 
glass,  he  held  it  up  to  the  light,  and  looked 
at  the  wine  severely ;  he  moved  the  tumbler 
to  and  fro  under  his  nose,  and  smelt  at  it 
again  and  again ;  he  paused  and  reflected ; 
he  tasted  the  claret  as  cautiously  as  if  he 
feared  it  might  be  poisoned ;  he  smacked  his 
lips,  and  emptied  his  glass  at  a  draught ; 
lastly,  he  showed  some  consideration  for  his 
host's  anxiety,  and  pronounced  sentence  on 
the  wine. 

'Not  so  good  as  you  think  it,  sir.  But 
nice  light  claret ;  clean  and  wholesome.  I 
hope  you  haven't  given  too  much  for  it  ? ' 

Thus  far,  Hugh  had  played  a  losing  game 
patiently.      His   reward   had    come    at   last. 


THE  GAME:  MOUNTJOY   WINS  169 

After  what  the  doctor  had  just  said  to  him, 
he  saw  the  winning  card  safe  in  his  own 
hand. 

The  bad  dinner  was  soon  over.  No  soup, 
of  course ;  fish,  in  the  state  of  preservation 
usually  presented  by  a  decayed  country 
town ;  steak  that  rivalled  the  toughness  of 
india-rubber;  potatoes  whose  aspect  said, 
'  Stranger,  don't  eat  us ' ;  pudding  that  would 
have  produced  a  sense  of  discouragement, 
even  in  the  mind  of  a  child ;  and  the  famous 
English  cheese  which  comes  to  us,  oddly 
enough,  from  the  United  States,  and  stings  us 
vindictively  when  we  put  it  into  our  mouths. 
But  the  wine,  the  glorious  wine,  would  have 
made  amends  to  anybody  but  Mr.  Yimpany 
for  the  woeful  deficiencies  of  the  food. 
Tumbler-full  after  tumbler-full  of  that  noble 
vintage  poured  down  his  thirsty  and  ignorant 
throat ;  and  still  he  persisted  in  declaring 
that  it  was  nice  li^ht  stuff,  and  still  he  un- 


I70  BLIND  LOVE 

forgivingly  bore  in  mind  the  badness  of  the 
dinner. 

'  The  feeding  here,'  said  this  candid  man, 
'  is  worse  if  possible  than  the  feeding  at  sea, 
when  I  served  as  doctor  on  board  a  pas- 
senger-steamer. Sliall  I  tell  you  how  I  lost 
my  place  ?  Oh,  say  so  plainly,  if  you  don't 
think  my  little  anecdote  worth  listening  to ! ' 
'  My  dear  sir,  I  am  waiting  to  hear  it.' 
'  Very  good.  No  offence,  I  hope  ?  That's 
right !  Well,  sir,  the  captain  of  the  ship 
complained  of  me  to  the  owners  ;  I  wouldn't 
go  round,  every  morning,  and  knock  at  the 
ladies'  cabin-doors,  and  ask  how  they  felt 
after  a  sea-sick  night.  Who  doesn't  know 
what  they  feel  without  knocking  at  their 
doors  ?  Let  them  send  for  the  doctor  when 
they  want  him.  That  was  how  I  understood 
my  duty,  and  there  was  the  line  of  conduct 
that  lost  me  my  place.  Pass  the  wine.  Talk- 
ing of  ladies,  what  do  you  think  of  my  wife  ? 


THE    GAME:  MOUNTJOY   WINS  171 

Did  you  ever  see  such  distinguished  manners 
before  ?  My  dear  fellow,  I  have  taken  a 
fancy  to  you.  Shake  hands.  I'll  tell  you 
another  little  anecdote.  Where  do  you  think 
my  wife  picked  up  her  fashionable  airs  and 
graces  ?  Ho  !  ho  !  On  the  stage  !  The 
highest  branch  of  the  profession,  sir — a  tragic 
actress.  If  you  had  seen  her  in  Lady  Mac- 
beth, Mrs.  Yimpany  would  have  made  your 
flesh  creep.  Look  at  me,  and  feast  your  eyes 
on  a  man  who  is  above  hypocritical  objec- 
tions to  the  theatre.  Haven't  I  proved  it  by 
marrying  an  actress  ?  But  we  don't  mention 
it  here.  The  savages  in  this  beastly  place 
wouldn't  employ  me,  if  they  knew  I  had 
married  a  stage-player.  Hullo !  the  bottle's 
empty  again.  Ha  !  here's  another  bottle,  full. 
I  love  a  man  who  has  always  got  a  full  bottle 
to  offer  his  friend.  Shake  hands.  I  say, 
Mountjoy,  tell  me  on  your  sacred  word  of 
honour,  can  you  keep  a  secret  .^     My  wife's 


172  BLIND  LOVE 

secret,  sir  !  Stop !  let  me  look  at  you  again. 
I  thouglit  I  saw  you  smile.  If  a  man  smiles 
at  me,  when  I  am  opening  my  whole  heart  to 
him,  by  the  living  jingo,  I  would  knock  that 
man  down  at  his  own  table  !  What  ?  you 
didn't  smile  ?  I  apologise.  Your  hand  again ; 
I  drink  your  health  in  your  own  good  wine. 
Where  was  I  ?     What  was  I  talking  about  ?  ' 

Mountjoy  carefully  humoured  his  interest- 
ing guest. 

'  You  were  about  to  honour  me,'  he  said, 
'  by  taking  me  into  your  confidence.'  Mr.  Vim- 
pany  stared  in  tipsy  bewilderment.  Mountjoy 
tried  again,  in  plainer  language  :  '  You  were 
going  to  tell  me  a  secret.' 

This  time  the  doctor  grasped  the  idea. 
He  looked  round  cunningly  to  the  door. 
'  Any  eavesdroj^pers  ?  '  he  asked.  '  Hush ! 
Whisper — this  is  serious — whisper  !  What 
was  it  I  was  going  to  tell  you  ?  What  was 
the  secret,  old  boy  ? ' 


THE   GAME:   MOUNTJOY    WINS  173 

Mountjoy  answered  a  little  too  readily  :  '  I 
think  it  related  to  Mrs.  Vimpany.' 

Mrs.  Yimpany's  husband  threw  himself 
back  in  his  chair,  snatched  a  dirty  handker- 
chief out  of  his  pocket,  and  began  to  cr}^ 

'  Here's  a  false  friend  ! '  the  creature  whim- 
pered. '  Asks  me  to  dinner,  and  takes  ad- 
vantage of  my  dependent  situation  to  insult 
my  wife.  The  loveliest  of  women,  the  sweet- 
est of  women,  the  innocentest  of  women.  Oh, 
my  wife  !  my  wife  ! '  He  suddenly  threw  his 
handkerchief  to  the  other  end  of  the  room, 
and  burst  out  laughing.  '  Ho  !  ho  !  Mountjoy, 
what  an  infernal  fool  you  must  be  to  take 
me  seriously.  I  can  act,  too.  Do  you  think 
I  care  about  my  wife  ?  She  was  a  fine  woman 
once ;  she's  a  bundle  of  old  rags  now.  But 
she  has  her  merits.  Hush  !  I  want  to  know 
something.  Have  you  got  a  lord  among  your 
circle  of  acquaintance.' 

Experience  made  Mountjoy  more  careful ; 


174  BLIND  LOVE 

perhaps  a  little  too  careful.     He   only   said 
'  Yes.' 

The  doctor's  dignity  asserted  itself.  '  That's 
a  short  answer,  sir,  to  a  man  in  my  position. 
If  you  want  me  to  believe  you,  mention  your 
friend's  name.' 

Here  was  a  chance  at  last!  'His  name,' 
Mountjoy  began,  '  is  Lord  Harry ' 

Mr.  Yimpany  lost  his  dignity  in  an  instant. 
He  struck  his  heavy  fist  on  the  table,  with  a 
blow  that  made  tlie  tumblers  jump. 

'  Coincidence  ! '  he  cried.  '  How  wonder- 
ful— no  ;  that's  not  the  word — providential  is 
the  word — how  providential  are  coincidences! 
I  mean,  of  course,  to  a  rightly  constituted 
mind.  Let  nobody  contradict  me  !  When  I 
say  a  rightly  constituted  mind,  I  speak 
seriously ;  and  a  young  man  like  you  will  be 
all  the  better  for  it.  Mountjoy  !  dear  Mount- 
joy  !  jolly  Mountjoy  !  my  wife's  lord  is  your 
lord — Lord  Harry.     No  ;  none  of  your  non- 


THE   GAME:  MOUNTJOY   WINS  175 

sense — I  won't  have  any  more  wine.  Yes,  I 
will !  It  miglit  hurt  your  feelings  if  I  didn't 
drink  with  you.  Pass  the  bottle.  Ha ! 
That's  a  nice  ring  you've  got  on  your  finger. 
Perhaps  you  tliink  it  valuable  ?  It's  nothing, 
sir  ;.it's  dross,  it's  dirt,  compared  to  my  wife's 
dig-mond  pin !  There's  a  jewel,  if  you  like  ! 
It  will  be  worth  a  fortune  to  us  when  we  sell 
it.  A  gift,  dear  sir.  I'm  afraid  I've  been  too 
familiar  with  you.  Speaking  as  a  born  gen- 
tleman, I  beg  to  present  my  respects,  and  I 
call  you  "  dear  sir."  Did  I  tell  you  the 
diamond  pin  was  a  gift  ?  It's  nothing  of  the 
sort ;  we  are  under  no  obligation ;  my  wife, 
my  admirable  wife,  has  earned  that  diamond 
pin.  By  registered  post ;  and  wliat  I  call  a 
manly  letter  from  Lord  Harry.  He  is  deeply 
obliged  (I  give  you  the  sense  of  it)  by  what 
my  wife  has  done  for  him  ;  ready-money  is 
scarce  with  my  lord  ;  he  sends  a  family  jewel, 
with   his   love.     Oh,  I'm   not  jealous.     He's 


176  BLIND  LOVE 

welcome  to  love  Mrs.  Vimpany,  in  her  old 
age,  if  he  likes.  Did  you  say  that,  sir  ?  Did 
you  say  that  Lord  Harry,  or  any  man,  was 
welcome  to  love  Mrs.  Vimpany?  I  have  a 
great  mind  to  throw  this  bottle  at  your  head. 
No,  I  won't ;  it's  wasting  good  wine.  How  kind 
of  you  to  give  me  good  wine!  Who  are  you? 
I  don't  like  dining  with  a  stranger.  Do  you 
know  any  friend  of  mine  ?  Do  you  know  a 
man  named  Mountjoy  ?  Do  you  know  two 
men  named  Mountjoy?  No  :  you  don't.  One 
of  them  is  dead  ;  killed  by  those  murdering 
scoundrels — what  do  you  call  them?  Eh, 
what?'  The  doctor's  voice  began  to  falter, 
his  head  dropped  ;  he  slumbered  suddenly 
and  woke  suddenly,  and  began  talking 
again  suddenly.  'Would  you  like  to  be 
made  acquainted  with  Lord  Harry  ?  I'll  give 
you  a  sketch  of  his  character  before  I  intro- 
duce him.  Between  ourselves,  he's  a  desperate 
wretch.     Do  you  know  why  he  employed  my 


THE   GAME:  MOUNT/0 Y   WINS  lyj 

wife,  m^    admirable   wife  ?     You    will  agree 
with  me  ;  he  ought  to  have  looked  after  his 
young  woman  himself.     We've  got  his  young- 
woman  safe  in  our  house.     A  nice  girl.     Not 
my    style ;    my   medical   knowledge    certifies 
she's  cold-blooded.     Lord  Harry  has  only  to 
come   over   here,    and   find   her.     Why   the 
devil  doesn't  he  come  ?     What  is  it  keeps  him 
in  Ireland  ?     Do  you  know?     I  seem  to  have 
forgotten.     My  own  belief  is  I've  got  soften- 
ing of  the  brain.     What's  good  for  softening 
of  the  brahi  ?     There  isn't  a  doctor  living  who 
won't  tell  you  the  right  remedy — wine.     Pass 
the  wine.     If  this  claret  is  worth  a  farthinsr, 
it's   worth  a  guinea  a  bottle.     I  ask  you  in 
confidence  ;  did  you  ever  hear  of  such  a  fool 
as   my  wife's   lord.^     His   name  escapes  me. 
No  matter  ;    he    stops   in   Ireland — hunting. 
HuntinfT    what  ?      The     fox  ?      Nothino;    so 
noble  ;    hunting    assassins.      He's    got   some 
grudge  against  one  of  them.     Means  to  kill 

VOL.  I.  N 


178  BLIND  LOVE 

one  of  them.  A  word  in  your  ear  ;  they'll 
kill  liim.  Do  you  ever  bet  ?  Five  to  one, 
he's  a  dead  man  before  the  end  of  the  week. 
When  is  the  end  of  the  week  ?  Tuesday, 
Wednesday — no,  Saturday — that's  the  begin- 
ning of  the  week — no,  it  isn't — the  beginning 
of  tlie  week  isn't  the  Sabbath — Sunday,  of 
course — we  are  not  Christians,  we  are  Jews — 
I  mean  we  are  Jews,  we  are  not  Christians — 
I  mean ' 

The  claret  got  the  better  of  his  tongue  at 
last.  He  mumbled  and  muttered ;  he  sank 
back  in  his  chair  ;  he  chuckled  ;  he  hiccup- 
ped ;  he  fell  asleejD. 

All  and  more  than  all  that  Mountjoy 
feared,  he  had  now  discovered.  In  a  state  of 
sobriety,  the  doctor  was  probably  one  of  those 
men  who  are  always  ready  to  lie.  In  a  state 
of  intoxication,  the  utterances  of  his  drunken 
delirium  might  unconsciously  betray  the 
truth.     The  reason  which   he  had  aiven  for 


THE   GAME:  MOUNTJOY   WINS  179 

Lord  Harry's  continued  absence  in  Ireland 
could  not  be  wisely  rejected  as  unworthy  of 
belief.  It  was  in  the  reckless  nature  of  the 
wild  lord  to  put  his  own  life  in  peril,  in  the 
hope  of  revenging  Arthur  Mount] oy  on  the 
wretch  who  had- killed  him.  Taking  this  bad 
news  for  granted,  was  there  any  need  to  dis- 
tress Iris  by  communicating  the  motive  wliich 
detained  Lord  Harry  in  his  own  country  ? 
Surely  not ! 

And,  again,  was  there  any  immediate 
advantage  to  be  gained  by  revealing  the  true 
character  of  Mrs.  Yimpany,  as  a  spy,  and 
worse  still  a  spy  who  was  paid?  In  her 
present  state  of  feehng  Iris  would,  in  all  pro- 
bability, refuse  to  believe  it. 

Arriving  at  these  conclusions,  Hugh  looked 
at  the  doctor  snoring  and  choking  in  an  easy- 
chair.  He  had  not  wasted  the  time  and 
patience,  devoted  to  the  stratagem  which  had 
now  successfully  reached  its  end.     After  what 


i8o  BLIND  LOVE 

he  had  just  heard — thanks  to  the  claret — he 
could  not  hesitate  to  accomplish  the  speedy 
removal  of  Iris  from  Mr.  Vimpany's  house  ; 
using  her  father's  telegram  as  the  only  means 
of  persuasion  on  which  it  was  possible  to  rely. 
Mountjoy  left  the  inn  without  ceremony,  and 
hurried  away  to  Iris  in  the  hope  of  inducing 
her  to  return  to  London  with  him  that  night. 


I8i 


CHAPTER  YII 

DOCTORING   THE   DOCTOR 

SKING  for  Miss 
Henley  at  the 
doctor's  door, 
Hucfli  was  in- 
formed  tliat  she 
had  gone  out, 
with  her  invahd 
maid,  for  a  walk. 
Shehadleftword 
if  Mr.  Moimtjoy 
called  in  her  absence,  to  beg  that  he  would 
kindly  wait  for  her  return. 

On   his    way   up    to    the    drawing-room, 
Mountjoy    heard    Mrs.    Yimpany's    sonorous 


1 82  BLIND  LOVE 

voice   occupied,   as  he  supposed,  in  reading 
aloud.     The  door  being  opened   for  him,  he 
surprised  lier,  striding  up  and  down  the  room 
with  a  book  in  her  hand  ;  grandly  declaiming 
without  anybody  to  applaud  her.    After  what 
Hugh    had    already    heard,    he    could    only 
conclude  that  reminiscences  of  her  theatrical 
career   had    tempted   the  solitary  actress  to 
make    a    private    appearance,    for    her    own 
pleasure,  in   one  of  those   tragic   characters 
to    which    her   husband   had    alluded.      She 
recovered  her  self-possession    on  Mountjoy's 
appearance,  with  the  ease  of  a  mistress  of  her 
art.     'Pardon  me,'  she  said,  holding  up  her 
book  with  one  hand,  and   tapping  it  indica- 
tively  wdth  the  other ;    '  Shakespeare  carries 
me  out  of  mj^self.     A  spark  of  the  j^oet's  fire 
burns  in  the  poet's  humble  servant.     May  I 
hope  that  I  have  made  myself  understood  ? 
You  look  as  if  you  had  a  fellow-feeling  for 
me.' 


DOCTORING  THE   DOCTOR  183 

Mountjoy  did  his  best  to  fill  tlie  sympa- 
thetic part  assigned  to  him,  and  only  suc- 
ceeded in  showing  what  a  bad  actor  he  would 
have  been,  if  he  had  gone  on  the  stage; 
Under  the  sedative  influence  thus  adminis- 
tered, Mrs.  Vimpany  put  away  her  book,  and 
descended  at  once  from  the  highest  poetry  to 
the  lowest  prose. 

'Let  us  return  to  domestic  events,'  she 
said  indulgently.  '  Have  the  people  at  the 
inn  given  you  a  good  dinner  .^  ' 

'  The  people  did  their  best,'  Mountjoy 
answered  cautiously. 

'  Has  my  husband  returned  with  you  ?  ' 
Mrs.  Vimpany  went  on. 

Mountjoy  began  to  regret  that  he  had  not 
waited  for  Iris  in  the  street.  He  was  obliijed 
to  acknowledge  that  the  doctor  had  not 
returned  Avith  him. 

'  Where  is  Mr.  Yimjoany  ?  ' 

'  At  the  inn.' 


1 84  BLIND  LOVE 

'  What  is  he  doing  there  P  ' 

Mountjoy  hesitated.  Mrs.  Yimpany  rose 
again  into  the  regions  of  tragic  poetry.  She 
stepped  up  to  him,  as  if  he  had  been  Macbeth, 
and  she  was  ready  to  use  the  daggers.  '1 
understand  but  too  well,'  she  declared,  in 
terrible  tones.  'My  wretched  husband's  vices 
are  known  to  me.  Mr.  Vimpany  is  intoxi- 
cated.' 

Hugh  tried  to  make  the  best  of  it.  '  Only 
asleep,'  he  said.  Mrs.  Vimpany  looked  at 
him  once  more.  This  time,  it  Avas  Queen 
Katharine  looking  at  Cardinal  Wolsey.  She 
bowed  with  lofty  courtesy,  and  opened  the 
door.  '  I  have  occasion,'  she  said,  '  to  go 
out ' and  made  an  exit. 

Five  minutes  later,  Mountjoy  (standing  at 
the  window,  impatiently  on  the  watch  for  the 
return  of  Iris)  saw  Mrs.  Vimpany  in  the  street. 
She  entered  a  chemist's  shop,  on  tlie  opposite 
side  of  the  way,  and  came  out  again  with  a 


DOCTORING   THE  DOCTOR  185 

bottle  in  her  hand.  It  was  enclosed  in  the 
customary  medical  wrapping  of  white  paper. 
Majestically,  she  passed  out  of  sight.  If  Hugh 
had  followed  her,  he  would  have  traced  the 
doctor's  wife  to  the  door  of  the  inn. 

The  unemployed  waiter  was  on  the  house- 
steps,  looking  about  him — with  nothing  to 
see.  He  made  his  bow  to  Mrs.  Vimpany,  and 
informed  her  that  the  landlady  had  gone  out. 

'  You  will  do  as  well,'  was  the  reply.  '  Is 
Mr.  Yimpany  here  ?  ' 

The  waiter  smiled,  and  led  the  way  through 
the  passage  to  tlie  foot  of  the  stairs.  'You 
can  hear  him,  ma'am.'  It  was  quite  true ; 
Mr.  Yimpany 's  snoring  answered  for  Mr. 
Yimpany.  His  wife  ascended  the  first  two  or 
three  stairs,  and  stopped  to  sj^eak  again  to  the 
waiter.  She  asked  what  the  two  gentlemen 
had  taken  to  drink  with  their  dinner.  They 
had  taken  '  the  French  wine.' 

'  And  nothing  else  ? ' 


1 86  BLIND  LOVE 

The  waiter  ventured  on  a  little  joke. 
'Nothing  else,'  he  said — 'and  more  than 
enough  of  it,  too.' 

'  Not  more  than  enough,  I  suppose,  for 
the  good  of  the  house,'  Mrs.  Vimpany  re- 
marked. 

'  I  beg  your  pardon,  ma'am ;  the  claret 
the  two  gentlemen  drank  is  not  charged  for  in 
the  bill.' 

'  What  do  you  mean  ?  ' 

The  waiter  explained  that  Mr.  Mountjoy 
had  purchased  the  whole  stock  of  the  wine. 
Suspicion,  as  well  as  surprise,  appeared  in 
Mrs.  Yimpany's  face.  She  had  hitherto 
thought  it  likely  that  Miss  Henley's  gentleman- 
like friend  might  be  secretly  in  love  with  the 
young  lady.  Her  doubts  of  him,  now,  took  a 
wider  range  of  distrust.  She  went  on  up  the 
stairs  by  herself,  and  banged  the  door  of  the 
private  room  as  the  easiest  means  of  waking 
the  sleeping  man.     To  the  utmost  noise  that 


DOCTORING   THE  DOCTOR  1S7 

she  could  make  in  this  way,  he  was  perfectly 
impenetrable.  For  a  while  -she  waited,  look- 
ing at  him  across  the  table  with  unutterable 
contempt. 

There  was  the  man  to  whom  the  religion 
of  the  land  and  the  law  of  the  land,  acting 
together  in  perfect  harmony,  had  fettered  her 
for  life  !  Some  women,  in  her  position,  might 
have  wasted  time  in  useless  self-reproach. 
Mrs.  Yimpany  reviewed  her  miserable  married 
life  with  the  finest  mockery  of  her  own 
misfortune.  '  Virtue,'  she  said  to  herself, 
'  is  its  own  reward.'  # 

Glancing  with  careless  curiosity  at  the 
disorder  of  the  dinner-table,  she  noticed  some 
wine  still  left  in  the  bottom  of  her  husband's 
glass.  Had  artificial  means  been  used  to 
reduce  him  to  his.  present  condition  ?  She 
tasted  the  claret.  No  :  there  was  nothinjy  in 
the  flavour  of  it  which  betrayed  that  he  had 
been    dru(?£?ed.      If   the    waiter    was   to   be 


1 88  BLIND  LOVE 

believed,  he  had  only  drunk  claret — and  there 
he  was,  in  a  state  of  helpless  stupefaction, 
nevertheless. 

She  looked  again  at  the  dinner-table,  and 
discovered  one  among  the  many  empty 
bottles,  with  some  wine  still  left  in  it.  After 
a  moment  of  reflection,  she  took  a  clean 
tumbler  from  the  sideboard. 

Here  was  the  wine  which  had  been  an 
object  of  derision  to  Mr.  Yimpany  and  his 
friends.  They  were  gross  feeders  and 
drinkers  ;  and  it  might  not  be  amiss  to  put 
their  opinions  to  the  test.  She  was  not 
searching  for  the  taste  of  a  drug  now ;  her 
present  experiment  proposed  to  try  the  wine 
on  its  own  merits. 

At  the  time  of  her  triumphs  on  the 
country  stage — before  the  date  of  her 
unlucky  marriage — rich  admirers  had  enter- 
tained the  handsome  actress  at  suppers,  which 
offered  every  luxury  that   the   most   perfect 


DOCTORING   THE  DOCTOR  189 

table  could  supply.  Experience  had  made 
her  acquainted  with  the  flavour  of  the  finest 
claret — and  that  experience  was  renewed  by 
the  claret  which  she  was  now  tasting.  It  was 
easy  to  understand  why  Mr.  Mountjoy  had 
purchased  the  wine  ;  and,  after  a  little  think- 
ing, his  motive  for  inviting  Mr.  Vimpany  to 
dinner  seemed  to  be  equally  plain.  Foiled  in 
their  first  attempt  at  discovery  by  her  own 
prudence  and  tact,  his  suspicions  had  set  their 
trap.  Her  gross  husband  had  been  tempted 
to  drink,  and  to  talk  at  random  (for  Mr. 
Mountjoy's  benefit)  in  a  state  of  intoxication  ! 

What  secrets  might  the  helpless  wretch  not 
have  betrayed,  before  the  wine  had  completely 
stupefied  him  ? 

Urged  by  rage  and  fear,  she  shook  him 
furiously.  He  woke ;  he  glared  at  her  with 
bloodshot  eyes ;  he  threatened  Jier  with  his 
clenched  fist.  There  was  but  one  way  of  hft- 
ing  his  purbhnd  stupidity  to  the  light.     She 


I90  BLIND  LOVE 

appealed  to  his  experience  of  himself,  on  many 
a  former  occasion  :  '  You  fool,  you  have  been 
drinking  again — and  there's  a  patient  waiting 
for  you.'  To  that  dilemma  he  was  accus- 
tomed ;  the  statement  of  it  partially  roused 
him.  Mrs.  Yimpany  tore  off  the  paper  wrap- 
ping, and  opened  the  medicine-bottle  which 
she  had  brought  with  her. 

He  stared  at  it  ;  he  muttered  to  himself: 
'  Is  she  going  to  poison  me  ?  '  She  seized  his 
head  with  one  hand,  and  held  the  open  bottle 
to  his  nose.  '  Your  own  prescription/  she 
cried,  '  for  yourself  and  your  hateful  friends.' 

His  nose  told  him  what  words  midit  have 
tried  vainly  to  say  ;  he  swallowed  the  mixture. 
'  If  I  lose  the  patient,'  he  muttered  oracularly, 
'  I  lose  the  money.'  His  resolute  wife  dragged 
him  out  of  his  chair.  The  second  door  in  the 
dining-room  led  into  an  empty  bed-chamber. 
With  her  help,  he  got  into  the  room,  and 
dropped  on  the  bed. 


DOCTORING  THE  DOCTOR  191 

Mrs.  Vimpany  consulted  her  watch. 

On  many  a  former  occasion  she  had  learnt 
what  interval  of  repose,  was  required,  before 
the  sobering  influence  of  the  mixture  could  suc- 
cessfully assert  itself.  For  the  present,  she  had 
only  to  return  to  the  other  room.  The  waiter 
presented  himself,  asking  if  there  was  anything 
he  could  do  for  her.  Familiar  with  the  defec- 
tive side  of  her  husband's  character,  he  under- 
stood what  it  meant  when  she  pointed  to  the 
bedroom  door.  'The  old  story,  ma'am,'  he 
said,  with  an  air  of  respectful  sympathy. 
'  Can  1  get  you  a  cup  of  tea  ?  ' 

Mrs.  Vimpany  accepted  the  tea,  and 
enjoyed  it  thoughtfully. 

She  had  two  objects  in  view — to  be 
revenged  on  Mountjoy,  and  to  find  a  way  of 
forcing  him  to  leave  tlie  town  before  he  could 
communicate  his  discoveries  to  Iris.  How  to 
reach  these  separate  ends,  by  one  and  the 
same  means,  was  still  the  problem  which  she 


192  BLIND  LOVE 

was  trying  to  solve,  when  the  doctor's  coarse 
voice  was  audible  calling  for  somebody  to 
come  to  him. 

If  his  head  was  only  clear  enough,  by  this 
time,  to  understand  the  questions  which  she 
meant  to  put,  his  answers  might  suggest 
the  idea  of  which  she  was  in  search.  Eisino^ 
with  alacrity,  Mrs.  Vimpany  returned  to  the 
bed-chamber. 

'  You  miserable  creature,'  she  began,  '  are 
you  sober  now  ?  ' 

'  I'm  as  sober  as  you  are.' 

'  Do  you  know,'  she  went  on,  '  why  Mr. 
Mountjoy  asked  you  to  dine  with  him  ?  ' 

'  Because  he's  my  friend.' 

'  He  is  your  worst  enemy.  Hold  your 
tongue !  I'll  explain  what  I  mean  directly. 
Eouse  your  memory,  if  you  have  got  a  memory 
left.  I  want  to  know  what  you  and  Mr. 
Mountjoy  talked  about,  after  dinner.' 

He  stared  at  her  helplessly.     She  tried  to 


DOCTORING    THE  DOCTOR  193 

liiid  lior  Avay  to  liis  recollection  by  making 
suggestive  inquiries.  It  was  useless ;  he 
only  complained  of  being  thirsty.  His  wife 
lost  her  self-control.  She  was  too  furiously 
angry  with  him  to  be  able  to  remain  in  the 
room,  liecovering  her  composure  when  she 
was  alone,  she  sent  for  soda-water  and  brandy. 
Her  one  chance  of  makini?  him  useful  was  to 
humour  his  vile  temper ;  she  waited  on  him 
herself. 

In  some  degjree  the  drink  cleared  his 
muddled  head.  Mrs.  Yimpany  tried  his 
memory  once  more.  Had  he  said  this  ?  Had 
he  said  that?  Yes:  he  thouglit  it  likely. 
Had  he,  or  had  Mr.  Mountjoy,  mentioned 
Lord  Harry's  name  ?  A  glimmer  of  intelli- 
gence showed  itself  in  his  stupid  eyes.  Yes 
— and  they  had  quarrelled  about  it  :  he  rather 
thouglit  he  had  thrown  a  bottle  at  Mr. 
Mountjoy's  head.  Had  they,  either  of  them, 
said  anything    about    Miss    Henley  ?     Oh,  of 

VOL    1.  o 


194  BLIND  LOVE 

course!  What  was  it?  He  was  unable  to 
remember.  Had  liis  wife  done  bothering 
him,  now  ? 

'  Not  quite,'  she  rephed.  '  Try  to  under- 
stand what  I  am  going  to  say  to  you.  If 
Lord  Harry  comes  to  us,  while  Miss  Henley  is 
in  our  house ' 

He  interrupted  her :  '  That's  your  business.' 

'  Wait  a  little.  It's  my  business,  if  I  liear 
beforehand  that  his  lordship  is  coming.  But 
he  is  quite  reckless  enough  to  take  us  by 
surprise.  In  that  case,  I  want  you  to  make 
yourself  useful.  If  you  happen  to  be  at  home, 
keep  him  from  seeing  Miss  Henley,  until  I 
have  seen  lier  first.' 

*  Why  ? ' 

'I  want  an  opportunity,  my  dear,  of  telling 
Miss  Henley  that  I  have  been  wicked  enough 
to  deceive  her,  before  slie  fnids  it  out  for 
herself.  I  may  hope  she  will  forgive  me,  if  I 
confess  every  tiling.' 


DOCTORING    THE   DOCTOR  195 

The  doctor  laughed :  '  What  the  devil 
does  it  matter  whether  she  forgives  3^011  or 
not  ? ' 

'  It  matters  a  great  deal.' 

'  Why,  you  talk  as  if  you  were  fond  of 
her  ! ' 

'  I  am.' 

The  doctor's  clouded  intelHgence  was 
beginning  to  clear  ;  he  made  a  smart  reply  : 
'  Fond  of  her,  and  deceiving  her — aha  ! ' 

'  Yes,'  she  said  quietly,  '  that's  just  what 
it  is.  It  has  grown  on  me,  httle  by  httle  ;  I 
can't  help  liking  Miss  Henley.' 

'  Well,'  Mr.  Vimpany  remarked,  '  you  are 
a  fool ! '  He  looked  at  her  cunningly. 
*  Suppose  I  do  make  myself  useful,  what  am  I 
to  gain  by  it  ?  ' 

'  Let  us  get  back,'  she  suggested,  '  to  the 
gentleman  who  invited  you  to  dinner,  and 
made  you  tipsy  for  his  own  purposes.' 

*  I'll  break  every  bone  in  his  skin ! ' 


196  BLIND  LOVE 

'  Don't  talk  nonsense  !  Leave  Mr.  Mount- 
joy  to  me.' 

'  Do  you  take  his  part  ?  I  can  tell  you 
this.  If  I  drank  too  much  of  tliat  poisonous 
French  stuff,  Mountjoy  set  me  the  example. 
He  Avas  tipsy — as  you  call  it — shamefully 
tipsy,  I  give  you  my  word  of  honour.  What's 
the  matter  now  ?  ' 

His  wife  (so  impenetrably  cool,  thus  far) 
had  suddenly  become  excited.  There  was  not 
the  smallest  fragment  of  truth  in  what  lie  had 
just  said  of  Hugh,  and  Mrs.  Yimpany  was  not 
for  a  moment  deceived  by  it.  But  the  lie 
had,  accidentally,  one  merit — it  suggested  to 
her  the  idea  which  she  liad  vainly  tried  to 
iind,  over  her  cup  of  tea.  '  Suppose  I  shoAV 
you  how  you  may  be  revenged  on  Mr. 
Mountjoy,'  slie  said. 

'Well?' 

'Will  you  remember  what  I  asked  you  to 


'Xozu,'  she  said,  taking  a  chair  iy  the  I'cdsidc,  'yon  shall  k7iow  zvhat  a  clcz'er  zvifc you  have  got .' 


DOCTORING   THE  DOCTOR  197 

do  for  me,  if  Lord  Harry  takes  us  by  sur- 
prise ? ' 

He  produced  his  pocket-diary,  and  told 
her  to  make  a  memorandum  of  it.  She  wrote 
as  briefly  as  if  she  liad  been  writing  a 
telegram :  '  Keep  Lord  Harry  from  seeing 
Miss  Henley,  till  I  have  seen  her  first.' 

'  Now,'  she  said,  taking  a  chair  by  the 
bedside,  '  you  shall  know  what  a  clever  wife 
you  have  got.     Listen  to  me.' 


198  BLIND  LOVE 


CHAPTEE  VIII 

HER   father's   ME>SSAGE 

'OOKING  out  of   the    drawing-room 
window,    for    the    tenth    time    at 
least,  Mountjoy  at  last  saw^  Iris  in 
the  street,  returning  to  the  house. 

She  brought  the  maid  with  her  into  tlie 
drawing-room,  in  the  gayest  of  good  spirits, 
and  presented  Ehoda  to  Mountjoy. 

'  What  a  blessing  a  good  long  walk  is,  if 
we  only  knew  it ! '  she  exclaimed.  '  Look  at 
my  little  maid's  colour  !  Who  would  suppose 
that  she  came  here  with  heavy  eyes  and  pale 
cheeks.^  Except  tliat  she  loses  her  way  in 
the  town,  whenever  she  goes  out  alone,  we 
liave  every  reason  to  congratulate  ourselves 


HER  FATHER'S  MESSAGE  199 

on  our  residence  at  Honey  buzzard.  The 
doctor  is  Elioda's  good  genius,  and  the  doctor's 
wife  is  her  fairy  godmother.' 

Mountjoy's  courtesy  having  offered  tlie 
customary  congratulations,  the  maid  was  per- 
mitted to  retire;  and  Iris  was  free  to  express 
her  astonishment  at  the  friendly  relations 
established  (by  means  of  the  dinner- table) 
between  the  two  most  dissimilar  men  on  tlie 
face  of  creation. 

'  Til  ere  is  something  overwhelming,'  she 
declared,  '  in  the  bare  idea  of  your  having 
asked  him  to  dine  with  you — on  such  a  short 
acquaintance,  and  lacing  such  a  man  !  I  should 
like  to  have  peeped  in,  and  seen  you  enter- 
taining your  guest  with  the  luxuries  of  tlie 
hotel  larder.  Seriously,  Hugh,  your  social 
sympathies  have  taken  a  range  for  which  I 
was  not  prepared.  After  the  example  that 
you  have  set  me,  I  feel  ashamed  of  Iiaving 
doubted  ^xhether    Mr.   Vimixnny  was  worthy 


2CO  BLIND  LOVE 

of  his  charming  wife.  Don't  suppose  that  I 
am  ungrateful  to  the  doctor  !  He  has  found 
his  way  to  my  regard,  after  what  he  has  done 
for  Ehoda.  I  only  fail  to  understand  how  he 
has  possessed  himself  of  your  sympathies.' 

So  she  ran  on,  enjoying  tlie  exercise  oi 
her  own  sense  of  humour  in  innocent  igno- 
rance of  the  serious  interests  wliicli  she  was 
deriding. 

Mountjoy  tried  to  stop  her,  and  tried  in 
vain. 

'No,  no,'  she  persisted  as  mischievously 
as  ever,  '  the  subject  is  too  interesting  to  be 
dismissed.  I  am  dying  to  know  how  you  and 
your  guest  got  through  tlie  dinner.  Did  he 
take  more  wine  than  was  good  for  him  ?  And 
when  he  forgot  his  good  inanners,  did  he  set 
it  all  riglit  again  by  saying,  "  Xo  offence,"  and 
passing  the  bottle  ?  ' 

Hugh  could  endure  it  no  longer.  '  Pray 
control    your    higli    spirits    for    a    moment,' 


HER   FATHER'S  MESSAGE  201 

lie  said.  '  I  liavc  news  fur  you  from 
home.' 

Those  words  put  an  end  to  her  outbreak 
of  gaiety  in  an  instant. 

'  News  from  my  father  ?  '  she  asked. 

'Yes.' 

'  Is  he  comini]:  here  ?  ' 

'No  ;  I  have  heard  from  him.' 

'  A  letter  ?  ' 

'A  telegram,'  Mountjoy  explained,  'in 
answer  to  a  letter  from  me.  I  did  my  best 
to  press  your  claims  on  liim,  and  I  am  glad 
to  say  I  have  not  failed.' 

'  Hugh,  dear  Hugh  !  have  you  succeeded 
in  reconciling  us  ?  ' 

Mountjoy  produced  the  telegram.  '  I 
asked  Mr.  Henley,'  he  said,  '  to  let  me  know 
at  once  whether  he  would  receive  you,  and 
to  answer  plainly  Yes  or  Xo.  The  message 
might  have  been  more  kindly  expressed — 
but,  at  any  rate,  it  is  a  favourable  reply.' 


202  BLIND  LOVE 

Iris  read  the  telegram.  '  Is  there  another 
father  in  the  world,'  she  said  sadly,  '  who 
would  tell  his  daughter,  when  she  asks  to  come 
liome,  that  he  will  receive  her  on  trial  ? ' 

'  Surely,  you  are  not  offended  with  him. 
Iris  ?  ' 

She  shook  her  head.  '  I  am  like  you,' 
she  said.  '  I  know  him  too  well  to  be  offended. 
He  shall  find  me  dutiful,  he  shall  find  me 
patient.  I  am  afraid  I  must  not  expect  you 
to  wait  for  me  in  Honeybuzzard.  Will  you 
tell  my  father  that  I  hope  to  return  to  him  in 
a  week's  time  ?  ' 

'  Pardon  me,  Iris,  I  see  no  reason  wliy  you 
should  waste  a  week  in  this  town.  On  the 
contrary,  the  more  eager  you  show  j^ourself  to 
return  to  your  father,  the  more  Hkely  you  are 
to  recover  your  place  in  liis  estimation.  I 
had  planned  to  take  you  home  by  the  next 
train.' 

Iris  looked  at  him  in  astonishment.     '  Is  it 


HER  FATHER'S  MESSAGE  203 

possible  that  you  mean  what  you  sayP'  slie 
asked. 

'  My  dear,  I  do  most  assuredly  mean  what 
I  say.  Why  should  you  hesitate?  What 
possible  reason  can  there  be  for  staying  here 
any  longer  ? ' 

'  Oh,  Hugh,  liow  you  disappoint  me ! 
What  has  become  of  your  kind  feeling,  your 
sense  of  justice,  your  consideration  for  others? 
Poor  Mrs.  Vimpany  ! ' 

'  What  has  Mrs.  Vimpany  to  do  with  it  ?  ' 

Iris  was  indignant. 

'  What  has  Mrs.  Vimpany  to  do  with  it  ?  ' 
she  repeated.  '  After  all  that  I  owe  to  that 
good  creature's  kindness ;  after  I  have  pro- 
mised to  accompany  her—  she  has  so  few 
happy  days,  poor  soul ! — on  excursions  to 
places  of  interest  in  the  ncighbourliood,  do 
you  expect  me  to  leave  her — no  !  it's  worse 
than  that — do  you  expect  me  to  throw  her 
aside  like  an  old  dress  tliat  I  have  worn  out  ? 


204  BLIND  LOVE 

And  tliis  after  I  have  so  unjustly,  so  ungrate- 
fully suspected  her  in  my  own  thoughts? 
Shameful !  shameful ! ' 

Witli  some  difficulty,  Mountjoy  controlled 
himself.  After  what  she  had  just  said,  his 
lips  were  sealed  on  the  subject  of  Mrs. 
Yimpany's  true  character.  He  could  only 
persist  in  appealing  to  her  duty  to  her 
father. 

'  You  are  allowing  your  quick  temper  to 
carry  you  to  strange  extremities,'  he  answered. 
'  If  I  think  it  of  more  importance  to  hasten  a 
reconciliation  with  your  father  than  to  en- 
courage you  to  make  excursions  with  a  lady 
whom  you  have  only  known  for  a  week  or 
two,  what  have  I  done  to  deserve  such  an  out- 
break of  vca^QY  ?  Hush  !  Not  a  word  more 
now  !     Here  is  the  lady  herself.' 

As  he  spoke,  Mrs.  Yimpany  joined  tliem  ; 
rcturnhig  from  her  interview  with  her 
liusband  at  tlie  inn.     She  looked  first  at  Iris, 


HER  FATHER'S  MESSAGE  203 

and  at  once  perceived  signs  of  disturbance  in 
the  young  lady's  face. 

Concealing  her  anxiety  under  tliat  wonder- 
ful sta<xe  smile,  wliich  aflbrds  a  refug-e  to  so 
many  secrets,  Mrs.  Vimpany  said  a  few  words 
excusing  her  absence.  Miss  Henley  answered, 
without  the  slightest  change  in  her  friendly 
manner  to  the  doctor's  wife.  The  signs  of 
disturbance  were  evidently  attributable  to 
some  entirely  unimportant  cause  from  Mrs. 
Yimpany's  point  of  view.  Mr.  Mountjoy's 
discoveries  had  not  been  communicated  yet. 

In  Hugh's  state  of  mind,  there  was  some 
irritating  influence  in  tlie  presence  of  the 
mistress  of  the  house,  which  applied  the  spur 
to  liis  wits.  He  miscliievously  proposed  sub- 
mitting to  her  tlie  question  in  dispute  between 
Iris  and  liimself. 

'  It  is  a  very  simple  matter,'  he  said  to 
Mrs.  Vimpany.  '  Miss  Henley's  father  is 
anxious  that  she  should  return  to  him,  after 


2o6  BLIND  LOVE 

an  estrangement  between  them  which  is  hap- 
pily at  an  end.  Do  you  think  she  ought  to 
allow  any  accidental  engagements  to  prevent 
her  from  going  home  at  once  ?  If  she  requests 
your  indulgence,  under  the  circumstances, 
has  she  any  reason  to  anticipate  a  refusal  ? ' 

Mrs.  Yimpany's  expressive  eyes  looked  up, 
with  saintly  resignation,  at  the  dirty  ceiling 
— and  asked  in  dumb  show  Avhat  she  had 
done  to  deserve  the  injury  implied  by  a 
doubt ! 

'  Mr.  Mountjoy,'  she  said  sternly,  '  you 
insult  me  by  asking  the  question.  Dear  Miss 
Henley,'  she  continued,  turning  to  Iris,  '  you 
will  do  me  justice,  I  am  sure.  Am  I  capable  of 
allowing  my  own  feelings  to  stand  in  the  way, 
when  your  filial  duty  is  concerned  ?  Leave 
me,  my  sweet  friend.  Go  !  I  entreat  you,  go 
home  ! ' 

She  retired  up  the  stage — no,  no  ;  she 
withdrew  to  the  otlier  end  of  the  room — and 


HER  FATHER'S  MESSAGE  207 

burst  into  the  most  becoming  of  all  human 
tears,  theatrical  tears.  Impulsive  Iris  hastened 
to  comfort  the  personification  of  self-sacrifice, 
the  model  of  all  that  was  most  unselfish  in 
female  submission.  '  For  shame  !  for  shame  ! ' 
she  whispered,  as  she  passed  Mountjoy. 

Beaten  again  by  Mrs.  Vimpany — with  no 
ties  of  relationship  to  justify  resistance  to  Miss 
Henley  ;  with  two  women  against  him,  en- 
trenched behind  the  privileges  of  their  sex 
— the  one  last  sacrifice  of  his  own  feelings,  in 
the  interests  of  Iris,  that  Hugh  could  make 
was  to  control  the  impulse  wdiich  naturally 
urged  him  to  leave  the  house.  In  the  help- 
less position  in  which  he  had  now  placed  him- 
self, he  could  only  wait  to  see  what  course 
Mrs.  Yimpany  might  think  it  desirable  to 
take.  Would  she  request  him,  in  her  most 
politely  malicious  way,  to  bring  his  visit  to  an 
end?  No:  she  looked  at  him — hesitated — 
directed  a  furtive  glance  towards  the  view  of 


2o8  BLIND  LOVE 

the  street  from  the  Avindow — smiled  mysteri- 
ously— and  completed  ilie  sacrifice  of  her 
own  feelim^s  in  tliese  words  : 

'Dear  Miss  Ilenley,  let  me  lielp  yon  to 
pack  np.' 

Iris  positively  refused. 

'  No,'  slie  said,  '  I  don't  agree  with  Mr. 
Mountjoy.  My  father  leaves  it  to  me  to  name 
the  day  when  w^e  meet.  Iliold  you,  my  dear, 
to  our  euG^ao^ement — I  don't  leave  an  affection- 
ate  friend  as  I  mi<2;ht  leave  a  stranger.' 

Even  if  Mr.  Mountjoy  communicated  his 
discoveries  to  Miss  Henley,  on  the  way  home, 
there  Avould  be  no  danger  now  of  her 
believing  him.  Mrs.  Yim2:)any  put  her 
power  fid  arm  round  the  generous  Iris,  and, 
with  inlinite  grace,  thanked  lier  by  a  kiss. 

'  Your  kindness  will  make  iny  lonely  lot  in 
life  harder  than  ever  to  bear,'  she  murmured, 
'  when  you  are  gone.' 

'  But  w^e  may  liope  to  meet  in  London,' 


HER  FATHER'S  MESSAGE  209 

Iris  reminded  her, '  unless  Mr.  Vimpany  alters 
his  mind  about  leaving  this  place.' 

'  My  husband  will  not  do  that,  dear.  He 
is  determined  to  try  his  luck,  as  he  says,  in 
London.  In  tlie  meantime  you  will  give  me 
your  address,  won't  you  ?  Perhaps  you  will 
even  promise  to  write  to  me  ?  ' 

Iris  instantly  gave  her  promise,  and  ^vrote 
down  her  address  in  London. 

Mountjoy  made  no  attempt  to  interfere  : 
it  was  needless. 

If  the  maid  had  not  fallen  ill  on  the 
journey,  and  if  Mrs.  Yimpany  had  followed 
Miss  Henley  to  London,  there  would  have 
been  little  to  fear  in  the  discovery  of  her 
address — and  there  was  little  to  fear  now. 
The  danger  to  Iris  was  not  in  what  might 
happen  while  she  was  living  under  her  father's 
roof,  but  in  what  might  happen  if  she  was 
detained  (by    plans    for    excursions)    in    Mr. 

VOL.   I.  p 


2IO  BLIND  LOVE 

Yimpany's  house,  until  Lord  Harry  might  join 
her  there. 

Eather  than  permit  tliis  to  happen,  Hugh 
(in  sheer  desperation)  meclitatcd  charging  Mrs. 
Vimpany,  to  her  face,  with  being  the  Irish 
lord's  spy,  and  proving  tlie  accusation  by 
challenging  her  to  produce  the  registered 
letter  and  the  diamond  pin. 

While  he  was  still  struggling  with  his  owni 
reluctance  to  inflict  this  degrading  exposure 
on  a  woman,  the  talk  between  the  two  ladies 
came  to  an  end.  Mrs.  Vimpany  returned 
again  to  the  wdndow.  On  this  occasion,  she 
looked  out  into  the  street — with  her  handker- 
chief (was  it  used  as  a  signal  ?)  exhibited  in 
her  liand.  Iris,  on  her  side,  advanced  to 
Mountjoy.  Easily  moved  to  anger,  lier 
nature  was  incapable  of  sullen  perseverance 
in  a  state  of  enmit3^  To  see  Hugh  si  ill 
patiently  waiting — still  risking  the  chances  of 
insult — devoted  to  lier,  and  foroivinir  her — was 


HER  FATHER'S  MESSAGE  211 

at  once  a  reproach  that  punished  Iris,  and  a 
mute  appeal  that  no  true  woman's  lieart  could 
resist. 

With  tears  in  her  eyes,  she  said  to  him  : 
'  There  must  be  no  coolness  between  you  and 
me.  I  lost  my  temper,  and  spoke  shamefully 
to  you.  My  dear,  I  am  indeed  sorry  for  it. 
You  are  never  hard  on  me — you  won't  be 
hard  on  me  now  ?  ' 

She  offered  her  hand  to  him.  He  had 
just  raised  it  to  his  lips — when  tlie  drawing- 
room  door  was  roughly  opened.  They  both 
looked  round. 

The  man  of  all  others  whom  Hugli  least 
desired  to  see  was  the  man  who  now  entered 
the  room.  The  victim  of  '  light  claret ' — 
privately  directed  to  lurk  in  the  street,  until 
he  saw  a  handkerchief  fluttering  at  the  window 
— had  returned  to  the  house  ;  primed  with  his 
clever  wife's  instructions  ;  read}^  and  eager  to 
be  even  with  Mountjoy  for  tlie  dinner  at  the  inn. 

r  1 


212  BLIND  LOVE 


CHAPTER  IX 

ME.    VIMPANY    ON   INTOXICATION 

'HEEE  was  no  unsteadiness  in  the 
doctor's  walk,  and  no  flush  on 
]iis  face.  He  certainly  did  strut 
Avhen  he  entered  the  room  ;  and  he  held  up 
his  head  with  dignity,  when  he  discovered 
Mountjoy.  But  he  seemed  to  preserve  his 
self-control.  Was  the  man  sober  again  al- 
ready ? 

His  wife  approached  him  with  her  set 
smile  ;  the  appearance  of  her  lord  and  master 
filled  Mrs.  Yimpany  with  perfectlj-assumed 
emotions  of  agreeable  surprise. 

'  This  is  an  unexpected  pleasure,'  she  said. 
'  You  seldom  favour  us  Avith  your  company, 


MR.    VIM P ANY  ON  INTOXICATION        213 

my  clear,  so  early  in  tlie  evening.  Are  there 
fewer  patients  in  want  of  your  advice  than 
usual  ? ' 

'  You  are  mistaken,  Arabella.  I  am  here 
in  the  performance  of  a  painful  clut3\' 

The  doctor's  language,  and  the  doctor's 
manner,  presented  him  to  Iris  in  a  character 
that  was  new  to  her.  What  effect  had  he 
produced  on  Mrs.  Almpany?  That  excellent 
friend  to  travellers  in  distress  lowered  her 
eyes  to  tlie  floor,  and  modestly  preserved 
silence.  Mr.  Yimpany  proceeded  to  the  per- 
formance of  his  duty ;  his  painful  responsi- 
bility seemed  to  strike  him  at  first  from  a 
medical  point  of  view. 

'  If  there  is  a  poison  whicli  undermines  the 
sources  of  life,'  he  remarked,  'it  is  alcohol. 
If  there  is  a  vice  that  deirrades  humanitv,  it  is 
intoxication.  Mr.  Mountjoy,  are  you  aware 
that  I  am  looking  at  you  P ' 

'  Impossible    not    to    be    aware    of    that,' 


214  BLIND  ILOVE 

Hui^li  answered.  '  May  I  ask  wliv  you  are 
looking  at  me  ? '  It  was  not  eas}^  to  listen 
gravely  to  Mr.  Yimpany's  denunciation  of  in- 
temperance, after  what  had  taken  place  at 
the  dinner  of  that  day.  Hugh  smiled.  The 
moral  majesty  of  the  doctor  entered  its 
protest. 

'This  is  really  shameful,'  he  said.  'The 
least  you  can  do  is  to  take  it  seriously.' 

'What  is  it?'  Mountjoy  asked.  'And 
why  am  I  to  take  it  seriously  ?  ' 

Mr.  Yimpany's  reply  was,  to  say  the  least 
of  it,  indirect.  If  such  an  expression  may  be 
permitted,  it  smelt  of  the  stage.  Yiewed  in 
connection  with  Mrs.  Yimpany's  persistent 
assumption  of  silent  humility,  it  suggested  to 
Mountjoy  a  secret  understanding,  of  some 
kind,  between  husband  and  wife. 

'What  has  become  of  j^our  conscience, 
sir  ?  '  Mr.  Yimpany  demanded.  '  Is  that  silent 
monitor  dead  within  you  ?     After  giving  me  a 


MR.    VI  MP  ANY  ON  INTOXICATIO.\        215 

bad  dinner,  do  you  demand  an  explanation  ? 
Ha !  you  shall  have  it.' 

Having  delivered  himself  to  this  effect, 
he  added  action  to  words.  Walking  grandly 
to  the  door,  he  threw  it  open,  and  saluted 
Mountjoy  with  an  ironical  bow.  Iris  ob- 
served that  act  of  insolence  ;  her  colour 
rose,  her  eyes  glittered.  'Do  you  see  what 
he  has  just  done  ?  '  she  said  to  Mrs.  Yim- 
pany. 

The  doctor's  wife  answered  softly:  'I  don't 
understand  it.'  After  a  glance  at  her  husband, 
she  took  Iris  by  the  hand:  'Dear  Miss  Henley, 
shall  we  retire  to  my  room  ?  ' 

Iris  drew  her  hand  away.  '  Not  iniless 
Mr.  Mountjoy  wishes  it,'  she  said. 

'  Certainly  not  !  '  Hugh  declared.  '  Pray 
remain  here  ;  your  presence  will  help  me  to 
keep  my  temper.'  He  stepped  up  to  Mr. 
Yimpany.  '  Have  you  any  particular  reason 
for  opening  that  door  ?  '  he  asked. 


2i6  BLIND  LOVE 

The  doctor  was  a  rascal ;  but,  to  do  liiin 
justice,  lie  was  uo  coward.  'Yes/  he  said, 
'I  liave  a  reasou.' 

'  What  is  it,  if  you  please  ?  ' 

*  Christian  forbearance,'  Mr.  Yimpany 
answered. 

'Forbearance  towards  me?'  Mountjoy 
continued. 

The  doctor's  dignity  suddenly  deserted 
him . 

'  Aha,  my  boy,  you  have  got  it  at  last ! ' 
he  cried.  'It's  pleasant  to  understand  each 
other,  isn't  it  ?  You  see,  I'm  a  plain-spoken 
fellow  ;  I  don't  wish  to  give  offence.  If  there's 
one  thing  more  than  another  I  pride  myself 
on,  it's  my  indulgence  for  human  frailty. 
But,  in  my  position  here,  I'm  obliged  to 
be  careful.  Upon  my  soul,  I  can't  con- 
tinue my  acquaintance  with  a  man  who — 
oh,  come  I  come !  don't  look  as  if  you  didn't 
understand     me.        The    circumstances     are 


MR.    VIMPANV  ON  INTOXICATION       217 

against  you,  sir.  You  have  treated  me  in- 
famously.' 

'  Under  what  circumstances  have  I  treated 
you  infamously?'  Hugh  asked. 

'  Under  pretence  of  giving  me  a  dinner,' 
Mr.  Vimpany  shouted — '  the  worst  dinner  I 
ever  sat  down  to  ! ' 

His  wife  signed  to  him  to  be  silent.  He 
took  no  notice  of  her.  She  insisted  on  being 
understood.  '  Say  no  more  ! '  she  warned 
him,  in  a  tone  of  command. 

The  brute  side  of  his  nature,  roused  by 
Mountjoy's  contemptuous  composure,  was 
forcing  its  way  outwards  ;  he  set  his  wife  at 
defiance. 

'  Then  don't  let  him  look  at  me  as  if  lie 
thought  I  was  in  a  state  of  intoxication ! '  cried 
tlie  furious  doctor.  '  Tliere's  the  man.  Miss, 
who  tried  to  make  me  tipsy,'  lie  went  on, 
actually  addressing  himself  to  Iris.  'Thanks 
to  my  habits  of  sobriety,  he  has  been  caught 


2i8  BLIND  LOVE 

ill  his  own  trap.  lies  intoxicated.  Ha, 
friend  Moiintjoy,  liave  you  got  tlie  right 
explanation  at  last  ?  There's  tlie  door, 
sir ! ' 

Mrs.  Vimpany  felt  that  this  outrage  was 
beyond  endurance.  If  something  Avas  not 
done  to  atone  for  it,  Miss  Henley  Avould  be 
capable — her  face,  at  that  moment,  answered 
for  her — of  leaving  the  house  wdtli  Mr.  Mount- 
joy.  Mrs.  Vimpany  seized  her  husband  in- 
dignantly by  the  arm. 

'  You  brute,  you  have  spoilt  everything  ! ' 
she  said  to  him.  '  Apologise  directly  to  Mr. 
Mountjoy.     You  w^on't  ?  ' 

'  I  won't  I ' 

Experience  had  taught  his  wdfe  Iioav  to 
break  liini  to  her  AvilL  '  Do  you  remember 
my  diamond  pin?  '  she  whispered. 

He  looked  startled.  Perhaps  he  thought 
she  had  lost  the  pin. 

'  Where  is  it  ?  '  lie  asked  eagerly. 


MR.    VI  MP  ANY  ON  INTOXICATION       219 

'  Gone  to  London  to  be  valued.  Beg  Mr. 
Mountjoy's  pardon,  or  I  will  put  the  money  in 
the  bank — and  not  one  shilling  of  it  do  you 
get.' 

In  the  meanwhile,  Iris  had  justified  Mrs. 
Vimpany's  apprehensions.  Her  indignation 
noticed  nothing  but  the  insult  offered  to 
Hugh.  She  was  too  seriously  agitated  to 
be  able  to  speak  to  him.  Still  admir- 
ably calm,  his  one  anxiety  was  to  compose 
her. 

'Don't  be  afraid,'  he  said;  'it  is  impossible 
that  I  can  degrade  myself  by  quarrelling  with 
Mr.  Yimpany.  I  only  wait  liere  to  know 
what  you  propose  to  do.  You  have  Mrs. 
Yimpany  to  think  of.' 

'  I  have  nobody  to  think  of  but  You,'  Iris 
replied.  '  But  for  me,  j^ou  would  never  have 
been  in  this  house.  After  tlie  insult  that  has 
been  offered  to  you — oh,  Hugh,  I  feel  it  too! 
— let  us  return  to  London  together.     I  have 


220  BLIND  LOVE 

only  to  tell  Ehoda  we  are  going  away,  and  to 
make  my  preparations  for  travelling.  Send 
for  me  from  the  inn,  and  1  will  be  ready  in 
time  for  tlie  next  train.' 

Mrs.  Vimpany  approached  Moimtjoy, 
leading  her  husband. 

'  Sorry  I  have  offended  you,'  the  doctor 
said.  '  Beg  your  pardon.  It's  only  a  joke. 
No  offence,  I  hope  ?  ' 

His  servility  was  less  endurable  than  his 
insolence.  Telhng  him  that  he  need  say  no 
more,  Monntjoy  bowed  to  Mrs.  Yimpany,  and 
left  the  room.  She  returned  his  bow  me- 
chanically, in  silence.  Mr.  Vimpany  followed 
Hugh  out — thinking  of  the  diamond  pin,  and 
eager  to  open  the  house  door,  as  another 
act  of  submission  Avhich  might  satisfy  his 
wife. 

Even  a  clever  woman  Avill  occasionally 
make  mistakes  ;  especially  when  her  temper 
happens  to  have  been  roused.     Mrs.  Yimpany 


MR.    VIMPAAY  Oy  IXTOXICATION       211 

found  herself  in  a  false  position,  due  entirely 
to  her  own  imprudence. 

She  had  been  guilty  of  three  serious 
errors.  In  the  first  place,  she  Iiad  taken  it 
I'or  granted  that  Mr.  Yimpany's  restorative 
mixture  would  completely  revive  the  sober 
state  of  his  brains.  In  the  second  place,  she 
had  trusted  him  Avitli  her  vengeance  on  the 
man  who  had  found  his  way  to  her  secrets 
through  her  husband's  intemperance.  In  the 
third  place,  she  had  rashly  assumed  that  the 
doctor,  in  carrying  out  her  instructions  for 
insulting  Mountjoy,  would  keep  within  the 
limits  whicli  she  had  prescribed  to  him,  when 
she  hit  on  the  audacious  idea  of  attributing 
his  disgraceful  conduct  to  the  temptation 
offered  by  his  host's  example.  As  a  conse- 
quence of  these  acts  of  imprudence,  she  had 
exposed  herself  to  a  misfortune  that  she 
iionestly  dreaded — the  loss  of  the  place  which 
she  had  carefully  maintained  in  Miss  Henley's 


222  BLIND  LOVE 

estimation.  In  the  contradictory  confusion  of 
feelings,  so  often  found  in  women,  this  deceit- 
ful and  dangerous  creature  had  been  con- 
quered— little  by  little,  as  she  had  herself 
described  it — by  that  charm  of  sweetness  and 
simplicity  in  Iris,  of  which  her  own  de- 
praved nature  presented  no  trace.  She  now 
spoke  with  hesitation,  almost  with  timidity, 
in  addressing  the  woman  whom  she  had  so 
cleverly  deceived,  at  the  time  when  they  first 
met. 

'  Must  I  give  up  all.  Miss  Henley,  that  I 
most  value  ? '  she  asked. 

'I  hardly  understand  you,  Mrs.  Yimpany.' 

'  I  will  try  to  make  it  plainer.  Do  you 
really  mean  to  leave  me,  this  evening  ? ' 

'  I  do.' 

'  May  I  own  that  I  am  grieved  to  hear  it? 
Your  departure  will  deprive  me  of  some 
happy  hours,  in  your  company.' 


MR.    VIM P ANY  ON  INTOXICATION       223 

'  Your  husband's  conduct  leaves  me  no 
alternative,'  Iris  replied. 

'  Pray  do  not  humiliate  me  by  speaking  of 
my  liusband  !  I  only  want  to  know  if  there 
is  a  harder  trial  of  my  fortitude  still  to  come. 
Must  I  lose  the  privilege  of  being  your  friend?' 

'  I  hope  I  am  not  capable  of  such  injustice 
as  that,'  Iris  declared.  '  It  Avould  be  liard 
indeed  to  lay  the  blame  of  Mr.  Vimpany's 
shameful  behaviour  on  you.  I  don't  forget 
that  you  made  him  offer  an  apology.  Some 
women,  married  to  such  a  man  as  tJiat,  might 
have  been  afraid  of  him.  No,  no  ;  you  have 
been  a  good  fi'iend  to  me — and  I  mean  to 
remember  it.' 

Mrs.  Yimpany's  gratitude  was  too  sincerely 
felt  to  be  expressed  with  lier  customary 
readiness.  She  only  said  wJiat  the  stupidest 
woman  in  existence  coidd  have  said  :  'Thank 
you.' 


224  BLIND  LOVE 

111  tlie  silence  tliat  followed,  the  rapid 
movement  of  carriage-wheels  became  audible 
in  the  street.  The  sound  stopped  at  the  door 
of  the  doctor's  house. 


225 


CHAPTER  X 

THE   MOCKERY   OF   DECEIT 

^AD  Momitjoy  arrived  to  take  Iris 
away,  before  her  preparations  for 
travelling  were  complete?  Both 
the  ladies  hurried  to  the  window,  but  they 
were  too  late.  The  rapid  visitor,  already 
liidden  from  them  under  the  portico,  was 
knocking  smartly  at  the  door.  In  another 
minute,  a  man's  voice  in  the  hall  asked  for 
'Mss  Henley.'  The  tones — clear,  mellow,  and 
pleasantly  varied  here  and  there  by  the  Irish 
accent — were  not  to  be  mistaken  by  anyone 
who  had  already  heard  tliem.  The  man  in 
the  hall  was  Lord  Harry. 

VOL.   I.  Q 


226  BLIND  LOVE 

In  that  serious  emergency,  Mrs.  Yimpany 
recovered  her  presence  of  mind. 

^She  made  for  the  door,  with  the  object 
of  speaking  to  Lord  Harry  before  he  could 
present  himself  in  the  drawing-room.  But 
Iris  had  heard  him  ask  for  her  in  the  hall ; 
and  that  one  circumstance  instantly  stripped 
of  its  concealments  the  character  of  the 
woman  in  whose  integrity  she  had  believed. 
Her  first  impression  of  Mrs.  Yimpany  —  so 
sincerely  repented,  so  eagerly  atoned  for — 
had  been  the  right  impression  after  all ! 
Younger,  ligliter,  and  quicker  tlinn  the  doc- 
tor's wife,  Iris  reached  tlie  door  first,  and  laid 
her  hand  on  the  lock. 

'  Wait  a  minute,'  she  said. 

Mrs.  Yimpany  hesitated.  For  the  first 
time  in  lier  life  at  a  loss  wliat  to  say,  slie 
could  only  sign  to  Iris  to  stand  back.  Iris 
refused  to  move,  t^lie  put  lier  tei'rible  ques- 
tion in  the  plainest  words  : 


THE  MOCKERY  OF  DECEIT  227 

'  How  does  Lord  Harry  know  that  I  am 
in  this  house  ?  ' 

The  wretched  woman  (Hstening  intently 
for  the  sound  of  a  step  on  the  stairs)  refused 
to  submit  to  a  shameful  exposure,  even  now. 
To  her  perverted  moral  sense,  any  falsehood 
was  acceptable,  as  a  means  of  hiding  herself 
from  discovery  by  Iris.  In  the  very  face  of 
detection,  the  skilled  deceiver  kept  up  the 
mockery  of  deceit. 

'  My  dear,'  she  said,  '  what  has  come  to 
you  ?  Why  won't  you  let  me  go  to  my 
room  ?  ' 

Iris  eyed  her  with  a  look  of  scornful  sur- 
prise. '  What  next  ?  '  she  said.  '  Are  you 
impudent  enough  to  pretend  that  I  have  not 
found  you  out,  yet  ?  ' 

Sheer  desperation  still  sustained  Mrs. 
Yimpany's  courage.  She  played  her  assumed 
character  against  the  contemptuous  incre- 
dulity of  Iris,  as  she   luxd   sometimes  played 

Q  2 


228  BLIND  LOVE 

her  theatrical  characters  agamst  the  hissing 
and  hooting  of  a  brutal  audience. 

'  Miss  Henley,'  she  said,  '  you  forget  your- 
self!' 

'  Do  you  think  I  didn't  see  in  your  face,' 
Iris  rejoined,  'that  you  heard  him,  too? 
Answer  my  question.' 

'What  question  ?  ' 

'  You  have  just  heard  it.' 

'  No ! ' 

'  You  false  woman  ! ' 

'  Don't  forget.  Miss  Henley,  that  you  are 
speaking  to  a  lady.' 

'  I  am  speaking  to  Lord  Harry's  spy ! ' 

Their  voices  rose  loud  :  the  excitement  on 
either  side  had  readied  its  climax ;  neither 
the  one  nor  the  other  was  composed  enough 
to  notice  the  sound  of  the  carriage-wheels, 
leaving  the  house  again.  In  tlie  meanwhile, 
nobody    came    to    the    drawing-room    door. 


THE  MOCKERY  OF  DECEIT  229 

Mrs.  Yimpany  wa^  too  well  acquainted  with 
the  hot-headed  Irish  lord  not  to  conclude  that 
he  would  have  made  himself  heard,  and 
would  have  found  his  w^ay  to  Iris,  but  for 
some  obstacle,  below  stairs,  for  which  he  was 
not  prepared.  The  doctor's  wife  did  justice 
to  the  doctor  at  last.  Another  person  had, 
in  all  probabihty,  heard  Lord  Harry's  voice 
— and  that  person  might  have  been  her 
husband. 

Was  it  possible  that  he  remembered  the 
service  wdiich  she  had  asked  of  him  ;  and, 
even  if  he  had  succeeded  in  calling  it  to 
mind,  was  his  discretion  to  be  trusted  ?  As 
those  questions  occurred  to  her,  the  desire  to 
obtain  some  positive  information  was  more 
than  she  was  able  to  resist.  Mrs.  Yimpany 
attempted  to  leave  the  drawing-room  for  the 
second  time. 

But  the  same  motive  had  already  urged 


230  BLIND  LOVE      . 

Miss  Ilcnlcy  to  action.  Again,  tlie  youiigoi- 
woman  outstripped  the  elder.  Iris  descended 
the  stairs,  resolved  to  discover  the  cause  of 
the  sudden  suspension  of  events  in  the  lower 
part  of  the  house. 


^^l 


CHAPTER   XI 


MRS.    YIMPAXYS    FAREWELTi 


THE  doctor's  wife  . 
followed  Miss 
Henley  out  of  the 
room,  as  far  as 
the  landini^  —  and 
waited  there. 

She      had      her- 
?      reasons  for  placing 
^'      this     restraint     on 
jfef*-^     herself.      The  posi- 
-*^'^'^      tion  of  the  landing 
concealed  her  from  the 
view  of  a  person  in  the 
lall.      If  she  only   lis- 
tened  for   the    sound    of 


232  BLIND  LOVE 

voices  she  might  safely  discover  whether 
Lord  Harry  was,  or  was  not,  still  in  the 
house.  In  the  first  event,  it  would  be  easy 
to  interrupt  his  interview  with  Iris,  before 
the  talk  could  lead  to  disclosures  which  Mrs. 
Vimpany  had  every  reason  to  dread.  In  the 
second  event,  there  would  be  no  need  to 
show  herself. 

Meanwhile,  Iris  opened  the  dining-room 
door  and  looked  in. 

Nobody  was  there.  The  one  other  room 
on  the  ground  floor,  situated  at  the  back  of 
the  building,  was  the  doctor's  consulting- 
room.  She  knocked  at  the  door.  Mr. 
Vimpany 's  voice  answered  :  '  Come  in.'  There 
he  was  alone,  drinking  brandy  and  water, 
and  smoking  his  big  black  cigar. 

'  Where  is  Lord  Harry  ?  '  she  said. 

'  In  Ireland,  I  suppose,'  Mr.  Vimpany 
answered  quietly. 

Iris   wasted   no   time   in   making   useless 


MRS.   VIMPANV'S  FAREWELL  233 

inquiries.  She  closed  the  door  again,  and 
left  him.  He,  too,  was  undoubtedly  in  the 
conspiracy  to  keep  lier  deceived.  How  had 
it  been  done?  Where  Avas  the  wild  lord,  at 
that  moment  ? 

Whilst  she  was  pursuing  these  reflections 
in  the  hall,  Ehoda  came  up  from  the  servants' 
tea-table  in  tlie  kitchen.  Her  mistress  gave 
her  the  necessary  instructions  for  packing, 
and  promised  to  help  her  before  long.  Mrs. 
Vimpany's  audacious  resolution  to  dispute  the 
evidence  of  her  own  senses,  still  dwelt  on  Miss 
Henley's  mind.  Too  angry  to  think  of  the 
embarrassment  which  an  interview  with  Lord 
Harry  would  produce,  after  they  had  said 
tlieir  farewell  words  in  Ireland,  she  was 
determined  to  prevent  the  doctor's  wife  from 
speaking  to  him  first,  and  claiming  him  as  an 
accomplice  in  her  impudent  denial  of  the 
truth.  If  he  liad  been,  by  any  chance, 
deluded    into    leavini*;    tlie    house,    he    would 


234  BLIND   LOVE 

sooner  or  later  discover  the  trick  tliat  liad 
been  played  on  liim,  and  would  certainly 
return.     Iris  took  a  chair  m  tlie  hall. 

It  is  due  to  the  doctor  to  relate  that  he 
had  indeed  justified  his  wife's  confidence  in 
hira. 

The  diamond  pin,  undergoing  valuation 
in  London,  still  represented  a  present  terror 
in  his  mind.  The  money,  the  money — he  was 
the  most  attentive  husband  in  England  wdien 
he  thought  of  the  money  !  At  the  time  when 
Lord  Harry's  carriage  stopped  at  his  house- 
door,  lie  was  in  the  dining-room,  taking  a 
bottle  of  l)i'andy  from  the  cellaret  in  the-  side- 
board. Looking  instantly  out  of  the  window, 
he  discovered  who  the  visitor  was,  and  de- 
cided on  consulting  his  instructions  in  the 
pocket-diary.  The  attempt  was  rendered 
useless,  as  soon  as  he  had  opened  the  book, 
by  the  unlucky    activity   of    the    servant   in 


MA'S.    VIMPANV'S   FAREWl-lLL  235 

answering  tlie  door.  llcr  master  stopped 
lier  in  the  liall.  Tie  was  ])leasantly  conscious 
of  the  recovery  of  liis  cunning.  But  his 
memory  (far  from  active  under  tlie  most 
favourable  circumstances)  was  slower  than 
ever  at  helping  him  now.  On  the  spur  of  the 
moment,  he  could  only  call  to  mind  that  he 
had  been  ordered  to  prevent  a  meeting 
between  Lord  Ilarry  and  Iris.  '  Show  the 
gentleman  into  my  consulting-room,'  he  said. 

Lord  Harry  found  the  doctor  enthroned 
on  liis  professional  chair,  surprised  and  de- 
lighted to  see  his  distinguished  friend.  The 
impetuous  Lishman  at  once  asked  for  Miss 
Henley. 

'  Gone,'  Mr.  Yimpany  answered. 

'  Gone — where  P  '  the  wild  lord  wanted  to 
know  next. 

'  To  London.' 

'By  herself?'     ' 

'  Xo  ;  with  Mr.  Ilugli  Mountjoy.' 


236  BLIND  LOVE 

Lord  Harry  seized  tlie  doctor  by  the 
shoulders,  and  shook  hmi  :  '  You  don't  mean 
to  tell  nie  Mountjoy  is  going  to  marry 
her  ?  '      . 

Mr.  Yimpany  feared  nothing  but  the  loss 
of  money.  The  weaker  and  the  older  man  of 
the  two,  he  nevertheless  followed  the  young 
lord's  example,  and  shook  him  with  right 
good- wall.  '  Let's  see  how  you  like  it,  in 
your  turn,'  he  said.  '  As  for  Mountjoy,  I 
don't  know  whether  he  is  married  or  single — ' 
and  don't  care.' 

'  The  devil  take  your  obstinacy  !  When 
did  they  start  ?  ' 

'  The  devil  take  your  questions !  They 
started  not  long  since.' 

'  Might  I  catch  them  at  the  station  ?  ' 

'  Yes  ;  if  vou  c^o  at  once.' 

So  the  desperate  doctor  carried  out  his 
wife's  instructions — -without  rememberinor  the 

o 

conditions  wdiich  liad  accompanied  them. 


MRS.  VIMPANY'S  FAREWELL  237 

The  way  to  tlie  station  took  Lord  Harry- 
past  tlie  inn.  He  saw  Hugh  Mountjoy, 
through  the  open  house  door,  paying  his  bill 
•at  the  bar.  In  an  instant  tlie  carriage  was 
stopped,  and  the  two  men  (never  on  friendly 
terms)  were  formally  bowing  to  each  other. 

'  I  was  told  I  should  find  you,'  Lord  Harry 
said,  '  with  Miss  Henley,  at  the  station.' 

'  Who  gave  you  your  information  ?  ' 

'  Yimpany — the  doctor.' 

'  He  ought  to  know  that  the  train  isn't 
due  at  the  station  for  an  hour  yet.' 

'  Has  the  blackguard  deceived  me  ?  One 
word  more,  Mr.  Mountjoy.  Is  Miss  Henley 
at  the  inn  ?  ' 

'No.' 

'  Are  you  going  with  her  to  London  ?  ' 

'  I  must  leave  Miss  Henley  to  answer 
that.' 

'  Where  is  she,  sir  P  ' 

'  There  is  an  end  to  everything,  my  lord, 


238  BLIND  LOVE 

in  the  world  we  live  in.  You  liave  reached 
the  end  of  my  readiness  to  answer  questions.' 
The  Englishman  and  tlie  Irishman  looked 
at  each  other  :  the  Anglo-Saxon  was  impene- 
trably cool ;  the  Celt  was  fiuslied  and  angry. 
They  might  have  been  on  the  brink  of  a 
quarrel,  but  for  Lord  Harry's  native  quick- 
ness of  perception,  and  his  exercise  of  it  at 
that  moment.  When  he  had  called  at  Mr. 
Vimpany's  house,  and  had  asked  for  Iris,  the 
doctor  had  got  rid  of  him  by  means  of  a  lie. 
After  this  discovery,  at  what  conclusion  could 
he  arrive  ?  The  doctor  was  certainly  keeping 
Iris  out  of  his  way.  Eeasoning  in  this  rapid 
manner,  Lord  Harry  let  one  offence  pass,  in 
his  headlon<^  eagerness  to  resent  another.  He 
instantly  left  Mountjoy.  Again,  the  carriage 
rattled  back  aloncf  the  street  ;  but  it  was 
stopped  before  it  readied  Mr.  Vimpany's 
door. 

Lord  Harry  knew    the    people    whom    he 


MK:^.   VIMP AMY'S  FAREWELL  230 

had  to  (leal  with,  and  took  measures  to 
approach  the  house  silently,  on  foot.  The 
coachman  received  orders  to  look  out  for  a 
signal,  which  should  tell  him  when  he  was 
wanted  again. 

Mr.  Yimpany's  ears,  vigilantly  on  the 
watcli  for  suspicious  events,  detected  no 
sound  of  carriage-wheels  and  no  noisy  use  of 
the  knocker.  Still  on  his  guard,  however,  a 
ring  at  the  house-bell  disturbed  him  in  liis 
consulting-room.  Peeping  into  the  hall,  he 
saw  Iris  opening  the  door,  and  stole  back  to 
liis  room.  '  Tlie  devil  take  her!'  he  said, 
alhuling  to  Miss  Henley,  and  thinking  of  the 
enviable  proprietor  of  tlie  diamond  pin. 

At  tlie  unexpected  apj)carance  of  Iris, 
Lord  Harry  forgot  every  consideration  which 
ouglit  to  liave  been  present  to  his  mind,  at 
that  critical  moment. 

He  advanced  to  lier  witli  both  liands  lield 
out  in   cordial   irreetino-.     She   sijined  to  him 


240  BLIND  LOVE 

contemptuously  to  stand  back — and  spoke  in 
tones  cautiously  lowered,  after  a  glance  at  tlie 
door  of  the  consulting-room. 

'  My  only  reason  for  consenting  to  see 
you,'  she  said,  '  is  to  protect  myself  from 
further  deception.  Your  disgraceful  conduct 
is  known  to  me.  Go  now,'  she  continued, 
pointing  to  the  stairs,  '  and  consult  with  your 
spy,  as  soon  as  you  like.'  The  Irish  lord 
listened^guiltily  conscious  of  having  deserved 
what  she  had  said  to  him — without  attempt- 
ing to  utter  a  word  in  excuse. 

Still  posted  at  the  head  of  the  stairs,  the 
doctor's  wife  heard  Iris  speaking ;  but  the 
tone  was  not  loud  enough  to  make  the  words 
intelhgible  at  that  distance  ;  neither  was  any 
other  voice  audible  in  reply.  Vaguely  sus- 
picious of  some  act  of  domestic  treachery, 
Mrs.  Yimpany  began  to  descend  the  stairs. 
At  the  turning:  which  o^ave  her  a  view  of  tlie 
hall,  she  stopped  ;  thunderstruck  by  the  dis- 


MRS.   VIMPANY'S  FAREWELL  241 

CO  very  of  Lord  HaiTy  and  Miss  Henley, 
together. 

The  presence  of  a  third  person  seemed,  in 
some  degree,  to  reheve  Lord  Harry.  He  ran 
upstairs  to  salute  Mrs.  Yimpany,  and  was  met 
again  by  a  cold  reception  and  a  hostile  look. 

Strongly  and  strangely  contrasted,  the  two 
confronted  each  other  on  the  stairs.  The 
faded  woman,  wan  and  ghastly  under  cruel 
stress  of  mental  suffering,  stood  face  to  face 
with  a  line,  tall,  lithe  man,  in  the  prime  of  his 
health  and  strength.  Here  were  the  bright 
blue  eyes,  the  winning  smile,  and  the  natural 
grace  of  movement,  which  find  their  own  way 
to  favour  in  the  estimation  of  the  gentler 
sex.  This  irreclaimable  wanderer  among  the 
perilous  by-ways  of  the  earth — christened 
'  Irish  blackguard,'  among  respectable  mem- 
bers of  society,  when  they  spoke  of  him 
behind  his  back — attracted  attention,  even 
among  the  men.    Looking  at  his  daring,  finely- 

VOL.   I.  R 


242  BLIND  LOVE 

formed  face,  they  noticed  (as  an  exception 
to  a  general  rule,  in  these  days)  the  total 
suppression,  by  the  razor,  of  whiskers, 
moustache,  and  beard.  Strangers  wondered 
whether  Lord  Harry  was  an  actor  or  a  Eoman 
Catholic  priest.  Among  chance  acquaintances, 
those  few  favourites  of  Nature  who  are 
possessed  of  active  brains,  guessed  that  his 
life  of  adventure  might  Avell  have  rendered 
disguise  necessary  to  his  safety,  in  more  than 
one  part  of  the  world.  Sometimes  they 
boldly  put  the  question  to  him.  The  hot 
temper  of  an  Irishman,  in  moments  of  excite- 
ment, is  not  infrequently  a  sweet  temper  in 
moments  of'  calm.  What  they  called  Lord 
Harry's  good-nature  owned  readily  that  he 
had  been  indebted,  on  certain  occasions,  to 
tlie  protection  of  a  false  beard,  and  perhaps  a 
colouring  of  his  face  and  hair  to  match.  The 
same  easy  disposition  now  asserted  itself, 
under  the  merciless  enmity  of  Mrs.  Yimpany's 


MRS.   VIMPANV'S  FAREWELL  243 

eyes.  '  If  I  have  done  anything  to  offend 
you,'  he  said,  with  an  air  of  puzzled  Juimihty, 
'  I'm  sure  I  am  sorry  for  it.  Don't  be  angry, 
Arabella,  with  an  old  friend.  Wliy  won't 
you  shake  hands? ' 

'  I  have  kept  your  secret,  and  done  your 
dirty  work,'  Mrs.  Yimpany  replied.  'And' 
what  is  my  reward  ?  Miss  Henley  can  tell 
you  how  your  Irish  blundering  has  ruined  me 
in  a  lady's  estimation.  Shake  hands,  indeed  ? 
You  will  never  shake  hands  with  Me  again  as 
long  as  you  live  ! ' 

She  said  those  words  without  looking?  at 
him ;  her  eyes  were  resting  on  Iris  now. 
From  the  moment  when  she  had  seen  the  two 
together,  she  knew  that  it  was  all  over ; 
further  denial  in  the  face  of  plain  proofs 
would  be  useless  indeed !  Submission  was 
the  one  alternative  left. 

'  Miss  Henley,'  she  said,  '  if  you  can  feel 
pity  for  another  woman's  sorrow  and  shame, 

R  id 


244  BLIND  LOVE 

let  me  have  a  last  word  with  you — out  of  this 
man's  hearinir.' 

There  was  nothing  artificial  in  her  tones 
or  her  looks  ;  no  acting  could  have  imitated 
the  sad  sincerity  with  which  she  spoke. 
Touched  by  that  cliange,  Iris  accompanied 
her  as  she  ascended  the  stairs.  After  a  little 
hesitation,  Lord  Harry  followed  them.  Mrs* 
Yimpany  turned  on  him  Avhen  they  reached 
the  drawinfT-room  landini^.  '  Must  I  shut  the 
door  in  your  face  ?  '  she  asked. 

He  was  as  pleasantly  patient  as  ever  : 
'  You  needn't  take  the  trouble  to  do  that, 
my  dear  ;  I'll  only  ask  your  leave  to  sit  down 
and  wait  on  the  stairs.  When  you  have  done 
with  Miss  Henley,  just  call  me  in.  And,  by 
the  way,  don't  be  alarmed  in  case  of  a  little 
noise — say  a  heavy  man  tumbling  downstairs. 
If  the  blackguard  it's  your  misfortune  to  be 
married  to  happens  to  show  himself,  I  shall  be 
under  the  necessity  of  kicking,  him.   That's  all.' 


JIIA'S.   VIMPANY'S  FAREWELL  245 

Mrs.  Vimpany  closed  the  door.  She 
spoke  to  Iris  respectfully,  as  she  might  have 
addressed  a  stranger  occupying  a  higher  rank 
in  life  than  herself. 

'There  is  an  end,  madam,  to  our  short 
acquaintance  ;  and,  as  we  botli  know,  an  end 
to  it  for  ever.  When  we  first  met — let  me 
tell  the  truth  at  last ! — I  felt  a  malicious 
pleasure  in  deceiving  you.  After  that  time, 
I  was  surprised  to  find  that  you  grew  on  my 
liking.  Can  you  understand  the  wickedness 
that  tried  to  resist  you  ?  It  was  useless  ; 
your  good  influence  has  been  too  strong  for 
me.  Strange,  isn't  it  ?  I  have  lived  a  life  of 
deceit,  among  bad  people.  What  could  you 
expect  of  me,  after  that  ?  I  heaped  lies  on 
lies — I  would  have  denied  that  the  sun  was 
in  the  heavens — rather  than  find  myself  de- 
graded in  your  opinion.  Well !  that  is  all 
over — useless,  quite  useless  now.  Pray  don't 
mistake  me.     I  am  not  attempting  to  excuse 


246  BLIND  LOVE 

myself ;  a  confession  was  due  to  you  ;  the 
confession  is  made.  It  is  too  late  to  hope 
that  you  will  forgive  me.  If  you  will  permit 
it,  I  have  only  one  favour  to  ask.  Forget 
me.' 

She  turned  away  with  a  last  hopeless  look, 
which  said  as  plainly  as  if  in  words  :  '  I  am 
not  worth  a  reply.' 

Generous  Iris  insisted  on  speaking  to  her. 

'  I  believe  you  are  truly  sorry  for  what 
you  have  done,'  she  said  :  '  I  can  never  forget 
that — I  can  never  forget  You.'  She  held  out 
lier  pitying  hand.  Mrs.  Yimpany  was  too 
bitterly  conscious  of  the  past  to  touch  it. 
Even  a  spy  is  not  beneath  the  universal  reach 
of  the  heartache.  There  were  tears  in  the 
miserable  woman's  eyes  when  she  had  looked 
her  last  at  Iris  Henley. 


247 


CHAPTER  XII 
LORD  Harry's  defexce 


FTER  a  sliort  inter- 
val,   the    drawing- 
room    door    was 
opened   again. 
ilh       Waiting        on 
the    thresliold 
the  Iridi  Icid 

7^    ji,  asked      if 

r-f//  V\\\Tl,       , 

he    might 

come    in. 

Iris  rc- 

phed.    coldly. 

'  This    is    not 

my       house, 


248  BLIND  LOVE 

she  said  ;  '  I  must  leave  you  to  decide  for 
yourself.' 

Lord  Harry  crossed  tlie  room  to  speak  to 
her — and  stopped.  There  was  no  sign  of 
relenting  towards  him  in  that  dearly-loved 
face.  '  I  wonder  whether  it  would  be  a  relief 
to  you,'  he  suggested  with  piteous  liumility, 
'  if  I  went  away  ?  ' 

If  she  ]iad  been  true  to  herself,  she  would 
have  said,  Yes.  Where  is  the  woman  to  be 
found,  in  her  place,  with  a  heart  hard  enough 
to  have  set  her  that  example  P  Slie  pointed 
to  a  chair.  lie  felt  her  indulgence  gratefully. 
Following  the  impulse  of  the  moment,  lie 
attempted  to  excuse  his  conduct. 

'  Tliere  is  only  one  thing  I  can  say  for 
myself,'  he  confessed,  '  I  didn't  begin  by  de- 
ceiving you.  While  you  liad  your  eye  on 
me.  Iris,  I  was  an  honourable  man.' 

This  extraordinary  defence  reduced  her  to 
silence.    Was  there  another  man  in  the  world 


LORD  HARRY'S  DEFENCE  249 

who  would  have  pleaded  for  pardon  in  that 
way  ?  '  I'm  afraid  I  have  not  made  myself 
understood,'  he  said.     '  May  I  try  again  ?  ' 

'  If  you  please.' 

Tlie  vagabond  nobleman  made  a  resolute 
effort  to  explain  himself  intelligibly,  this 
time  : 

'  See  now^ !  We  said  good-b3^e,  over  there, 
in  tlie  poor  old  island.  Well,  indeed  I  meant 
it,  when  I  owned  that  I  was  unwortliy  of  you. 
I  didn't  contradict  you,  when  you  said  3'ou 
could  never  be  my  wife,  after  such  a  life  as  I 
have  led.  And,  do  remember,  I  submitted  to 
your  returning  to  England,  witliout  presuming 
to  make  a  complaint.  Ah,  my  sweet  girl, 
it  was  easy  to  submit,  while  I  could  look  at 
you,  and  hear  the  sound  of  your  voice,  and 
beo'  for  that  last  kiss — and  o-et  it.  Eeverend 
gentlemen  talk  about  the  fall  of  Adam.  "What 
was  that  to  the  fall  of  Harry,  wlien  he  was 
back   in   his  own  little  cottage,  without  the 


250  BLIND  LOVE 

hope  of  ever  seeing  you  again  ?  To  the  best 
of  ni}^  recollection,  the  serpent  that  tempted 
Eve  was  up  a  tree.  '  I  found  the  serpent  that 
tempted  Me,  sitting  waiting  in  my  own  arm- 
cliair,  and  bent  on  nothing  worse  than  borrow- 
ing a  trifle  of  money.  Need  I  say  who  she 
was?  I  don't  doubt  that  you  think  her  a 
wicked  woman.' 

Never  ready  in  sj)eaking  of  acts  of  kind- 
ness, on  her  own  part,  Iris  answered  with 
some  little  reserve :  '  I  have  learnt  to  think 
better  of  Mrs.  Yimpany  than  you  suppose.' 

Lord  Harry  began  to  look  like  a  happy 
man,  for  the  first  time  since  he  iiad  entered 
the  room. 

'  I  ought  to  have  known  it ! '  he  burst  out. 
'Yours  is  the  well-balanced  mind,  dear,  tliat 
tempers  justice  with  mercy.  j\ [other  Yimpany 
lias  liad  a  hard  life  of  it.  Just  change  places 
with  her  for  a  minute  or  so — a'nd  you'll 
understand  wliat  slie  has  had  to  ao  throujzh. 


LORD  HARRY'S  DEFENCE  251 

Find  yourself,  for  instance,  in  Ireland,  with- 
out the  means  to  take  you  back  to  England. 
Add  to  that,  a  liusband  who  sends  you  away 
to  make  money  for  him  at  the  theatre,  and  a 
manager  (not  an  Irishman,  thank  Gocl  !)  who 
refuses  to  engage  you — afcer  your  acting  has 
filled  his  dirty  pockets  in  past  days — because 
your  beauty  has  faded  with  time.  Doesn't 
your  bright  imagination  see  it  all  now?  My 
old  friend  Arabella,  ready  and  anxious  to 
serve  me — and  a  sinking  at  this  poor  fellow's 
heart  when  he  knew,  if  he  once  lost  the  trace 
of  you,  he  might  lose  it  for  ever — there's  the 
situation,  as  they  call  it  on  the  stage.  I  wish 
I  could  say  for  myself  what  I  may  say  for 
Mrs.  Yimpany.  It's  such  a  pleasure  to  a 
clever  woman  to  engage  in  a  little  deceit— we 
can't  blame  her,  can  we  ?  ' 

Iris  protested  gently  against  a  code  of 
morality  which  included  the  right  of  deceit 
among  the  privileges  of  the  sex.     Lord  Harry 


252  BLIND  LOVE 

slipped  through  her  fingers  with  the  admirable 
Irish  readiness  ;  he  agreed  with  Miss  Henley 
that  he  was  entirely  wrong. 

'  And  don't  spare  me  while  you're  about 
it,'  he  suggested.  '  Lay  all  the  blame  of  that 
shameful  stratagem  on  my  shoulders.  It  was 
a  despicable  thing  to  do.  When  I  had  you 
watched,  I  acted  in  a  manner — I  won't  say 
unworthy  of  a  gentleman ;  have  I  been  a 
gentleman  since  I  first  ran  away  from  home  ? 
Why,  it's  even  been  said  my  Avay  of  speaking 
is  no  longer  the  way  of  a  gentleman  ;  and 
small  wonder,  too,  after  the  company  I've 
kept.  Ah,  w^ell !  I'm  off  again,  darling,  on  a 
sea  voyage.  Will  you  forgive  me  now  ?  or 
will  you  wait  till  I  come  back,  if  I  do  come 
back  ?  God  knows ! '  He  dropped  on  his 
knees,  and  kissed  lier  hand.  '  Anyway,'  he 
said,  '  whether  I  live  or  whether  I  die,  it  will 
be  some  consolation  to  remember  that  I  asked 
your  pardon — and  perhaps  got  it.' 


LORD  HARRY'S  DEFENCE  253 

'  Take  it,  Harry ;  I  can't  help   forgiving 

you ! ' 

She  had  done  her  best  to  resist  him,  and 
she  had  answered  in  tliose  merciful  words. 

The  effect  was  visible,  perilously  visible,  as 
he  rose  from  his  knees.  Her  one  chance  of 
keeping  the  distance  between  them,  on  which 
she  had  been  too  weak  to  insist,  was  not  to 
encourage  him  by  silence.  Abruptly,  des- 
perately, she  made  a  commonplace  inquiry 
about  his  proposed  voyage.  '  Tell  me,'  she 
resumed,  '  where  are  you  going  when  you 
leave  England  ?  ' 

'  Oh,  to  find  money,  dear,  if  I  can — to 
pick  up  diamonds,  or  to  hit  on  a  mine  of  gold, 
and  so  forth.' 

The  fine  observation  of  Iris  detected  some- 
thing not  quite  easy  in  his  manner,  as  he 
made  that  reply.  He  tried  to  change  the 
subject:  she  deliberately  returned  to  it. 
'Your   account   of    your   travelling-plans    is 


254  BLIND  LOVE 

rather  vague,'  she  told  him.  '  Do  3^011  know 
when  you  are  hkely  to  return  P  ' 

He  took  her  hand.  One  of  the  rings  on 
her  fingers  happened  to  be  turned  the  wrong 
way.  He  set  it  in  the  right  position,  and  dis- 
covered an  opaL  '  Ah  !  the  unlucky  stone  ! ' 
he  cried,  and  turned  it  back  again  out  of 
sight.  She  drew  away  her  hand.  '  I  asked 
you,'  she  persisted,  'when  you  expect  to 
return  ? ' 

He  laughed — not  so  gaily  as  usual. 

'  How  do  I  know  I  shall  ever  get  back  .^  ' 
he  answered.  '  Sometimes  the  seas  turn 
traitor,  and  sometimes  the  savages.  I  have 
had  so  many  narrow  escapes  of  my  life,  I  can't 
expect  my  luck  to  last  for  ever.'  He  made 
a  second  attempt  to  change  the  subject.  '  I 
wonder  whether  you're  likely  to  pay  another 
visit  to  Ireland  ?  My  cottage  is  entirely  at 
your  disposal,  Iris  dear.  Oh,  when  I'm  out 
of  the  way,  of  course !     The  place  seemed  to 


LORD  HARRY'S  DEFENCE  255 

please  your  fancy,  when  you  saw  it.  You 
will  find  it  well  taken  care  of,  I  answer  for 
that.' 

Iris  asked  vvlio  was  taking  care  of  liis 
cottage  ? 

The  wild  lord's  face  saddened.  He  hesi- 
tated ;  rose  from  his  chair  ]-estlessly,  and 
walked  away  to  the  window  ;  returned,  and 
made  up  his  mind  to  reply. 

'  My  dear,  you  know  her.  She  was  the 
old  housekeeper  at ' 

His  voice  failed  him.  He  was  unable,  or 
unwilling,  to  pronounce  the  name  of  Arthur's 
farm. 

Knowing,  it  is  needless  to  say,  that  he 
had  alluded  to  Mrs.  Lewson,  Iris  warmly 
commended  him  fo-r  takins^  care  of  her  old 
nurse.  At  the  same  time,  she  remembered 
the  unfriendly  terms  in  which  the  house- 
keeper had  alluded  to  Lord  Harry,  when  they 
had  talked  of  him. 


256  BLIND  LOVE 

'  Did  you  iincl  no  difficulty,'  she  asked,  '  in 
persuading  Mrs.  Lewson  to  enter  your  ser- 
vice ? ' 

'  Oh,  yes,  plenty  of  difficulty  ;  I  found  my 
bad  character  in  my  way,  as  usual;  It  was 
a  relief  to  him,  at  that  moment,  to  talk  of 
Mrs.  Lewson ;  the  Irish  humour  and  the  Irisli 
accent  both  asserted  themselves  in  his  reply. 
'  The  curious  old  creature  told  me  to  my  face 
I  was  a  scamp.  I  took  leave  to  remind  her 
that  it  was  the  duty  of  a  respectable  person 
like  herself,  to  reform  scamps  ;  I  also  men- 
tioned that  I  was  going  away,  and  she  would 
be  master  and  mistress  too  on  my  small 
property.  That  softened  her  heart  towards 
me.  You  will  mostly  find  old  women  amenable, 
if  you  get  at  them  by  way  of  their  dignity. 
Besides,  there  was  another  lucky  circumstance 
that  helped  me.  The  neighbourhood  of  my 
cottage  has  some  attraction  for  Mrs.  Lewson. 


LORD  HARRY'S  DEFENCE  257 

She  didn't  say  particularly  what  it  was — and 
I  never  asked  her  to  tell  me.' 

'  Surely  you  might  have  guessed  it,  with- 
out being  told,'  Iris  reminded  him.  '  Mrs. 
Lewson's  faithful  heart  loves  poor  Arthur's 
memory — and  Arthur's  grave  is  not  far  from 
your  cottage.' 

'  Don't  speak  of  him  ! ' 

It  was  said  loudly,  peremptorily,  passion- 
ately. He  looked  at  her  with  angry  astonish- 
ment in  his  face.  '  You  loved  him  too  ! '  he 
said.  'Can  you  speak  of  him  quietly?  The 
noblest,  truest,  sweetest  man  that  ever  the 
Heavens  looked  on,  foully  assassinated.  And 
the  wretch  who  murdered  him  still  livinQ- 
free — oh,  what  is  God's  providence  about  ? — - 
is  there  no  retribution  that  will  follow  him  ?  no 
just  hand  that  will  revenge  Arthur's  death?  ' 

As  those  fierce  words  escaped  him,  he  was 
no    longer    the    easv,  gentle,  joyous  creature 

VOL.    L  S 


2  58  BLIND  LOVE 

wliom  Iris  had  known  and  loved.  The  furious 
passions  of  the  Celtic  race  glittered  savagely 
in  his  eyes,  and  changed  to  a  grey  horrid  pallor 
the  healthy  colour  that  was  natural  to  his 
face.  '  Oh,  my  temper,  my  temper ! '  he 
cried,  as  Iris  shrank  from  him.  '  She  hates 
me  now,  and  no  wonder.'  He  staggered  away 
from  her,  and  burst  into  a  convulsive  fit  of 
crying,  dreadful  to  hear.  Compassion,  divine 
compassion,  mastered  the  earthlier  emotion  of 
terror  in  the  great  heart  of  the  woman  who 
loved  him.  She  followed  him,  and  laid  her 
hand  caressingly  oli  his  shoulder.  '  I  don't 
hate  you,  my  dear,'  she  said.  'I  am  sorry 
for  Arthur — and,  oh,  so  sorry  for  You  ! '  He 
caught  her  in  his  arms.  His  gratitude,  his 
repentance,  his  silent  farewell  were  all  ex- 
pressed in  a  last  kiss.  It  was  a  moment, 
never  to  be  forgotten  to  the  end  of  their  lives. 
Before  she  could  speak,  before  she  could 
think,  he  had  left  her. 


LORD  HARRY'S  DEFENCE  259 

She  called  liiiii  back,  through  the  open 
door.  He  never  returned ;  he  never  even 
replied.  She  ran  to  the  window,  and  threw  it 
up — and  was  just  in  time  to  see  him  signal  to 
the  carriage  and  leap  into  it.  Her  horror  of 
the  fatal  purpose  that  was  but  too  plainly 
rooted  in  him — her  conviction  that  he  was  on 
the  track  of  the  assassin,  self-devoted  to  exact 
the  terrible  penalty  of  blood  for  blood — em- 
boldened her  to  insist  on  being  heard.  '  Come 
back,'  she  cried.  '  I  must,  I  will,  speak  with 
you.'    • 

He  waved  his  hand  to  her  with  a  gesture 
of  despair.  '  Start  your  horses,'  he  shouted 
to  the  coachman.  Alarmed  by  his  voice  and 
his  look,  the  man  asked  where  he  should 
drive  to.  Lord  Harry  pointed  furiously  to 
the  onward  road.  '  Drive,'  he  answered,  '  to 
the  Devil ! ' 

THE   END    OF   THE   FlKbT   PEKIOD 


26o  BLIND  LOVE 


SECOND  PEBIOD 
CHAPTER  XIII 

IRIS   AT   HOME 

LITTLE  more  than  four  months  had 
passed,  since  the  return  of  Iris  to 
her  father's  house. 
Among  other  events  which  occurred, 
during  the  earher  part  of  that  interval,  the 
course  adopted  by  Hugh  Mountjoy  when  Miss 
Henley's  suspicions  of  the  Irisli  lord  were  first 
communicated  to  him,  claims  a  foremost 
place. 

It  was  impossible  that  the  devoted  friend 
of  Iris  could  look  at  her,  when  they  met  again 
on  their  way  to  the  station,  without  perceiving 


IJ^/S  AT  HOME  26 r 

the  signs  of  serious  agitation.  Only  waiting 
until  they  were  alone  in  the  railway  carriage 
she  opened  her  heart  unreservedly  to  the  man 
in  whose  clear  intellect  and  true  sympathy  slie 
could  repose  implicit  trust.  He  listened  to 
what  she  could  repeat  of  Lord  Harry's  lan- 
guage with  but  little  appearance  of  surprise. 
Iris  had  only  reminded  him  of  one,  among  the 
disclosures  which  had  escaped  Mr.  Yimpany 
at  the  inn.  Under  the  irresistible  influence 
of  good  wine,  the  doctor  had  revealed  the 
Irish  lord's  motive  for  remaining;  in  his  own 
country,  after  the  assassination  of  Arthur 
Mountjoy.  Hugh  met  the  only  difficulty  in 
his  way,  without  shrinking  from  it.  He 
resolved  to  clear  his  mind  of  its  natural  pre- 
judice against  the  rival  who  had  been  pre- 
ferred to  him,  before  he  assumed  the  responsi- 
bility of  guiding  Ii'is  by  his  advice. 

When  he  had  in  some  deo'ree  recovered 
confidence  in  his  own  unbiassed  judgment,  he 


262  BLIND  LOVE 

entered    on    tlie    question    of   Lord    Harry's 
purpose  in  leaving  England. 

Without  attempting  to  dispute  tlie  con- 
clusion at  wliicli  Iris  had  arrived,  he  did  his 
best  to  alleviate  her  distress.  In  his  opinion, 
he  was  careful  to  tell  her,  a  discovery  of 
the  destination  to  which  Lord  Harry  pro- 
posed to  betake  himself  might  be  achieved. 
The  Irish  lord's  allusion  to  a  new  adventure 
which  would  occupy  him  in  searching  for  dia- 
monds or  gold,  might  indicate  a  contemplated 
pursuit  of  the  assassin,  as  well  as  a  plausible 
excuse  to  satisfy  Iris.  It  was  at  least  possible 
that  the  murderer  might  have  been  warned  of 
his  danger  if  he  remained  in  England,  and 
that  lie  might  have  contemplated  directing  his 
flight  to  a  distant  country,  which  would  not  only 
offer  a  safe  refuge,  but  also  hold  out  (in  its 
mineral  treasures)  a  hope  of  gain.  Assuming 
that  tliese  circumstances  had  really  happened, 
it  was  in  Lord  Harry's  character  to  make  sure 


IRIS   AT  HOME  263 

of  liis  revenge,  by  embarking  in  llie  steam-sliip 
by  wliicli  the  assassin  of  Arthur  Mountjoy 
was  a  passenger. 

Wild  as  this  <]fiiess  at  tlie  truth  unclonbtedly 
was,  it  had  one  merit  :  it  might  easily  be  put 
to  the  test. 

Hugh  had  bought  the  day's  newspaper, 
at  the  station.  He  proposed  to  consult  the 
shipping  advertisements  relating,  in  tlie  first 
place,  to  communication  with  the  diamond- 
mines  and  tlie  gold-fields  of  South  Africa. 

This  course  of  proceeding  at  once  in- 
formed  him  that  the  first  steamer,  bound  for 
that  destination,  would  sail  from  London  in 
two  days'  time.  The  obvious  precaution  to 
take  was  to  have  the  Docks  watched  ;  and 
Mountjoy 's  steady  old  servant,  who  knew 
Lord  Harry  by  sight,  was  the  man  to  employ. 

Iris  naturally  inquired  what  good  end 
could  be  attained,  if  the  anticipated  discovery 
actually  took  place. 


264  BLIND  LOVE 

To  this  Mount] oy  answered,  tliat  the  one 
hope — a  faint  hope,  he  must  needs  confess — 
of  inducing  Lord  Harry  to  reconsider  his 
desperate  purpose,  lay  in  the  influence  of  Iris 
herself.  She  must  address  a  letter  to  him, 
announcing  that  his  secret  had  been  betrayed 
by  his  own  language  and  conduct,  and  declar- 
ing that  she  would  never  again  see  him,  or 
hold  any  communication  with  him,  if  he  per- 
sisted in  his  savag^e  resolution  of  reven<?e. 
Such  was  the  desperate  experiment  which 
Mountjoy's  generous  and  unselfish  devotion 
to  Iris  now  proposed  to  try. 

The  servant  (duly  entrusted  with  Miss 
Henley's  letter)  was  placed  on  the  watcli 
— and  the  event  which  had  been  rec^arded 
as  little  better  than  a  forlorn  hope  proved 
to  be  the  event  that  really  took  place. 
Lord  Harry  was  a  passenger  by  the  steam- 
ship. 

Mountjoy's  man  presented  the  letter  en- 


The  wild  lord  read  ii—lcokedito  use  the  messenger's  own  words)  like  a  man  cut  to  the  heart, 
and  seemed  at  a  loss  what  to  say  or  do. 


/R/S  AT  HOME  265 

trusted  to  him,  and  asked  respectfully  if  there 
was  any  answer.  The  wild  lord  read  it — 
looked  (to  use  the  messenger's  own  words) 
like  a  man  cut  to  tlie  heart — seemed  at  a  loss 
what  to  say  or  do — and  only  gave  a  verbal 
answer;  'I  sincerely  thank  Miss  Henley,  and 
I  promise  to  write  when  the  sliip  touches  at 
Madeira.'  The  servant  continued  to  watch 
him  when  he  went  on  board  the  steamer ;  saw 
him  cast  a  look  backwards,  as  if  suspecting 
that  he  might  have  been  followed  ;  and  then 
lost  sight  of  him  in  the  cabin.  The  vessel 
sailed  after  a  long  interval  of  delay,  but  he 
never  reappeared  on  the  deck. 

The  ambiguous  messaf^e  sent  to  her 
aroused  the  resentment  of  Iris  ;  she  thought  it 
cruel.  For  some  weeks  perhaps  to  come, 
she  was  condemned  to  remain  in  doubt,  and 
was  left  to  endure  the  trial  of  her  patience, 
without  having  Mountjoy  at  hand  to  en- 
courage and  console  her.    He  had  been  called 


266  BLIND  LOVE 

away  to  the  South  of  France  1)y  tlie  ilhiess  of 
his  father. 

But  the  fortunes  of  Miss  Henley,  at  tliis 
period  of  lier  hfe,  had  their  brighter  side. 
She  found  reason  to  conoTatuhate  herself  on 
the  reconcihation  which  had  brought  her 
back  to  her  father.  Mr.  Henley  had  received 
her,  not  perhaps  with  affection,  but  certainly 
with  kindness.  '  If  vre  don't  get  in  each 
other's  way,  Ave  shall  do  very  well;  I  am 
c^lad  to  see  you  aoain.'  That  was  all  he  had 
said  to  her,  but  it  meant  much  from  a  soured 
and  selfish  man. 

Her  only  domestic  anxiety  was  caused  by 
another  failure  in  the  health  of  her  maid. 

The  Doctor  declared  that  medical  help 
woidd  be  of  no  avail,  while  Ehoda  Bennet 
remained  in  London.  In  the  country  she  had 
been  born  and  bred,  and  to  the  country  she 
must  return.  Mr.  Henley's  large  landed 
property,  on  the  north  of  London,  happened 


IRIS  AT  HOME  267 

to  include  a  farm  in  tlie  neiglibourliood  of 
Muswell  Hill.  Wisely  waiting  for  a  favour- 
able opportunity,  Iris  alluded  to  the  good 
qualities  which  had  made  Rhoda  almost  as 
much  her  friend  as  her  servant,  and  asked 
leave  to  remove  the  invalid  to  the  healthy  air 
of  the  farm. 

Her  anxiety  about  tlie  recovery  of  a  ser- 
vant so  astonished  Mr.  Henley,  that  he  was 
liurried  (as  he  afterwards  declared)  into 
granting  his  daughter's  request.  After  this 
concession,  the  necessary  arrangements  were 
easily  made.  The  influence  of  Iris  won  the 
good-will  of  the  farmer  and  his  wife  ;  Ehoda, 
as  an  expert  and  willing  needlewoman,  being 
sure  of  a  welcome,  for  Jier  own  sake,  in  a 
family  which  included  a  number  of  young 
children.  Miss  Henley  had  only  to  order  lier 
carriage,  and  to  be  within  reach  of  the  farm. 
A  week  seldom  passed  witliout  a  meeting 
between  the  mistress  and  the  maid. 


268  BLIND  LOVE 

In  the  meantime,  Mountjoy  (absent  in 
France)  did  not  forget  to  write  to  Iris. 

His  letters  offered  little  hope  of  a  speedy 
return.  The  doctors  had  not  concealed  from 
him  that  his  father's  illness  would  end  fatally ; 
l)ut  there  w^ere  reserves  of  vital  power  still 
left,  wdiicli  might  prolong  the  struggle.  Under 
these  melancholy  circumstances,  he  begged 
that  Iris  would  w^rite  to  him.  The  oftener 
she  could  tell  him  of  the  little  events  of  her 
life  at  home,  the  more  kindly  she  would 
brighten  the  days  of  a  dreary  life. 

Easrer  to  show,  even  in  a  triflino;  matter, 
how  gratefully  she  appreciated  Mountjoy's 
past  kindness,  Iris  related  the  simple  story  of 
her  life  at  home,  in  weekly  letters  addressed 
to  her  o'ood  friend.  After  tellincc  Huo-h 
(among  other  things)  of  Ehoda's  establish- 
ment at  the  farm,  she  had  some  unexpected 
results  to  relate,  which  had  followed  the 
attempt  to  provide  herself  with  a  new  maid. 


IRJS  AT  HOME  269 

Two  young  women  liaci  been  successively 
engaged — each  recommended,  by  the  lady 
wliom  she  had  last  served,  with  that  utter 
disregard  of  moral  obligation  which  appears 
to  be  shamelessly  on  the  mcrease  hi  the 
England  of  our  day.  The  first  of  the  two 
maids,  described  as  '  rather  excitable,'  re- 
vealed infirmities  of  temper  which  suggested 
a  lunatic  asylum  as  the  only  fit  place  for  her. 
The  second  young  woman,  detected  in  steal- 
ing eau-de- cologne,  and  using  it  (mixed  with 
water)  as  an  intoxicating  drink,  claimed  mer- 
ciful construction  of  her  misconduct,  on  the 
ground  that  she  liad  been  misled  by  the  ex- 
ample of  her  last  mistress. 

At  the  third  attempt  to  ])rovide  herself 
with  a  servant,  Iris  was  able  to  report  the 
discovery  of  a  responsible  person  who  told 
the  truth — an  unmarried  lady  of  middle  age. 

In  this  case,  the  young  woman  was  de- 
scribed as  a  servant  thoroughly  trained  in  the 


270  BLIXD   LOVE 

performance  of  her  duties,  honest,  sober, 
industrious,  of  an  even  temj)er,  and  unpro- 
vided with  '  a  follower  '  in  the  shape  of  a 
sweetheart.  Even  her  name  sounded  favour- 
ably in  the  ear  of  a  stranger — it  was  Fanny 
Mere.  Iris  asked  liov/  a  servant,  apparently 
possessed  of  a  faultless  character,  came  to  be 
in  want  of  a  situation.  At  this  question  tlie 
lady  sighed,  and  acknowledged  that  she  had 
'  made  a  dreadful  discovery,'  relating  to  the 
past  life  of  her  maid.  It  proved  to  be  the  old, 
the  miserably  old,  story  of  a  broken  promise 
of  marriage,  and  of  the  penalty  paid  as  usual 
by  the  unhappy  woman.  'I  will  say  nothing 
of  my  own  feelings,'  the  maiden  lady  ex- 
plained. '  In  justice  to  the  other  female 
servants,  it  was  impossible  for  me  to  keep 
such  a  person  in  ni}^  house ;  and,  in  justice  to 
you,  I  must  most  unwillingly  stand  in  tlie 
way  of  Fanny  Mere's  prospects  by  mention- 
ing my  reason  for  parting  with  her.' 


IRIS  AT  HO  mi:  271 

'  If  I  could  see  the  young  woman  and  speak 
to  her,'  Iris  said,  '  I  sliould  Hke  to  decide  the 
question  of  engaging  her,  for  rn3\self.' 

The  lady  knew  the  address  of  her  dis- 
charged servant,  and — with  some  appearance 
of  wonder — communicated  it.  Miss  Henley 
wrote  at  once,  telling  Fanny  Mere  to  come  to 
lier  on  the  following  da5^ 

When  she  woke  on  the  next  morning,  later 
than  usual,  an  event  occurred  which  Iris  had 
been  impatiently  expecting  for  some  time 
past.  She  found  a  letter  waiting  on  her  bed- 
side table,  side  by  side  with  her  cup  of  tea. 
Lord  Harry  had  written  to  her  at  last. 

.  yyiietlier  he  used  ]iis  pen  or  his  tongue, 
the  Irish  lord's  conduct  was  always  more  or 
less  in  need  of  an  apology.  Here  were  tlie 
guilty  one's  new  excuses,  expressed  in  his  cus- 
tomary medley  of  frank  confession  and  llowery 
lan£:juao;e  : 

'I    am    fearing,    my    angel,    that   I   have 


272  BLIND  LOVE 

offended  you.  You  liave  too  surely  said  to 
yourself,  This  miserable  Harry  might  have 
made  me  happy  by  writing  two  lines — and 
what  does  he  do?  He  sends  a  message  in 
words  which  tell  me  nothing. 

'  My  sweet  girl,  the  reason  why  is  that  I 
was  in  two  minds,  when  your  man  stopped 
me  on  my  way  to  the  ship. 

'  Whether  it  was  best  for  you — I  was  not 
thinking  of  myself — to  confess  the  plain  truth, 
or  to  take  refuge  in  affectionate  equivocation, 
was  more  tlian  I  could  decide  at  the  time. 
When  minutes  are  enough  for  your  intelli- 
gence, my  stupidity  wants  days.  Well !  I 
saw  it  at  last.  A  man  owes  the  truth  to  a 
true  woman  ;  and  you  are  a  true  woman. 
There  you  find  a  process  of  reasoning — I  have 
been  five  days  getting  hold  of  it. 

'  But  tell  me  one  tiling  first.  Brutus 
killed  a  man  ;  Chai'Iotte  Corday  killed  a  man. 
One  of  the  two  victims  was  a  fine  tvrant,  and 


IRIS  AT  HOME  273 

the  other  a  mean  tyrant.  Nobody  blames 
those  two  historical  assassins.  Why  then 
blame  me  for  wishing  to  make  a  third  ?  Is  a 
mere  modern  murderer  beneath  my  vengeance, 
by  comparison  with  two  classical  tyrants  who 
did  their  murders  by  deputy?  The  man  who 
killed  Arthur  Mountjoy  is  (next  to  Cain  alone) 
the  most  atrocious  homicide  that  ever  trod  the 
miry  ways  of  this  earth.  Tliere  is  my  reply  ! 
I  call  it  a  crusher. 

*  So  now  my  mind  is  easy.  Darling,  let 
me  make  your  mind  easy  next. 

'  When  I  left  you  at  the  window  of 
Timpany's  house,  I  was  off  to  the  other  rail- 
road to  find  the  murderer  in  his  hiding-place 
by  the  seaside.  He  had  left  it ;  but  I  got  a 
trace,  and  went  back  to  London — to  the 
Docks.  Some  villain  in  Ireland,  who  knows 
my  purpose,  must  have  turned  traitor.  Any- 
how, the  wretch  has  escaped  me. 

^  Yes  ;  I  searched  the  ship  in  every  corner 

VOL.    I.  T 


274  BLIND  LOVE 

He  was  not  on  board.  lias  lie  ^^one  on  before 
me,  by  an  earlier  vessel  ?  Or  has  he  directed 
his  flight  to  some  other  part  of  the  world  ?  I 
shall  find  ont  in  time.  His  day  of  reckoning 
will  come,  and  he,  too,  shall  know  a  violent 
death !     Amen.     So  be  it.     Amen. 

'  Have  I  done  noAv  ?  Bear  with  me,  gentle 
Iris — there  is  a  word  more  to  come. 

'  You  will  wonder  wh}^  I  went  on  by  the 
steam-ship — all  the  way  to  Sonth  Africa — 
when  I  failed  to  find  the  man  I  wanted,  on 
board.  What  w^as  my  motive  ?  You,  you 
alone,  are  always  my  motive.  Lucky  men 
have  found  gold,  lucky  men  have  found 
diamonds.  Why  should  I  not  be  one  of 
them?  My  SAveet,  let  us  suppose  two  possible 
things  ;  my  own  elastic  convictions  would  call 
them  two  likely  things,  but  never  mind  that. 
Say,  I  come  back  a  reformed  character  ;  there 
is  your  only  objection  to  me,  at  once  removed! 
And  take  it  for  c^ranted  tliat  I  return  with  a 


IRJS  AT  HOME  275 

fortune  of  1113^  oAvn  finding.  In  tliat  case, 
wliat  becomes  of  Mr.  Henley's  objection  to 
me  ?  It  melts  (as  Shakespeare  says  some- 
where) into  thin  air.  Now  do  take  my  ad- 
vice, for  once.  Sliow  this  part  of  my  letter 
to  3'Oiir  excellent  father,  with  my  love.  I 
answer  beforehand  for  the  consequences.  Be 
happy,  my  Lady  Harry — as  happy  as  I  am — 
and  look  for  my  return  on  an  earlier  day 
than  you  may  anticipate.— Yours  till   death, 

and  after, 

'  Harry.' 

Like  the  Irish  lord.  Miss  Henley  was  *  in 
two  minds,'  while  she  rose  and  dressed  her- 
self. There  w^ere  parts  of  the  letter  for  which 
she  loved  the  writer,  and  parts  of  it  for  which 
she  hated  him. 

What  a  prospect  was  before  that  reckless 
man — what  misery,  what  horror,  might  not 
be  lying  in  wait  in  the  dreadful  future!     If 


276  BUND  LOVE 

he  failed  in  the  act  of  vengeance,  that  violent 
death  of  which  lie  had  written  so  heedlessly 
might  overtake  him  from  anotlier  hand.  If 
he  succeeded,  the  law  might  discover  his 
crime,  and  the  infamy  of  expiation  on  the  scaf- 
fold might  be  his  dreadful  end.  She  turned, 
shuddering,  from  the  contemplation  of  those 
hideous  possibihties,  and  took  refuge  in  the 
hope  of  his  safe,  his  guiltless  return.  Even  if 
his  visions  of  success,  even  if  his  purposes  of 
reform  (how  hopeless  at  his  age !)  were  actu- 
ally realised,  could  she  consent  to  marry  tlie 
man  who  had  led  his  life,  had  written  his 
letter,  had  contemplated  (and  still  cherished) 
his  merciless  resolution  of  revenge  ?  No 
woman  in  her  senses  could  let  the  bare  idea 
of  being  liis  wife  enter  her  mind.  Iris  opened 
her  writing-desk,  to  hide  the  letter  from  all 
eyes  but  her  own.  As  s]ie  secured  it  with 
the  key,  her  heart  sank  under  the  return  of  a 
terror  remembered  but  too  well.     Once  more 


JRIS  AT  HOME  277 

tlie  superstitious  belief  in  a  destiny  that  was 
urging  Lord  Harry  and  herself  nearer  and 
nearer  to  each  other,  even  when  they  seemed 
to  be  most  widely  and  most  surely  separated, 
thrilled  her  under  the  chilling  mystery  of  its 
presence.  She  dropped  helplessly  into  a 
chair.  Oh,  for  a  friend  who  could  feel  for 
her,  who  could  strengthen  her,  whose  wise 
words  could  restore  her  to  her  better  and 
calmer  self !  Hugh  was  far  away  ;  and  Iris 
was  left  to  suffer  and  to  struggle  alone. 

Heartfelt  aspirations  for  help  and  sym- 
pathy !  Oh,  irony  of  circumstances,  how 
were  they  answered  ?  The  housemaid  en- 
tered the  room,  to  announce  the  arrival  of  a 
discharged  servant,  with  a  lost  character. 

'  Let  the  young  woman  come  in,'  Iris  said. 
Was  Fanny  Mere  the  friend  whom  she  had 
been  longing  for  ?  She  looked  at  her  trou- 
bled face  in  the  glass — and  laughed  bitterl5^ 


278 


BLIND  LOVE 


CHAPTER  Xiy 

THE    lady's   maid 

T  was  not  easy  to 
form  a  positive 
opinion  of  the 
young  Avonian 
who  now  pre- 
sented herself 
in  Miss  Hen- 
ley's room. 

If  the 
Turkisli  taste 
is  truly  re- 
ported as  va- 
luing beauty 
in    the   female    fiiiurc    more    than  beaatv    in 


THE  LADY'S   MAID  279 

the  female  face,  Fanny  Mere's  personal  ap- 
pearance might  liave  found,  in  Constanti- 
nople, the  approval  which  she  failed  to 
receive  in  London.  Slim  and  well-balanced, 
firmly  and  neatly  made,  she  interested  men 
who  met  Avith  her  by  accident  (and  sometimes 
even  women),  if  they  happened  to  be  walking 
Ijeliind  her.  When  they  quickened  their  steps 
and,  passing  on,  looked  back  at  her  face,  they 
lost  all  interest  in  Fanny  from  that  moment. 
Painters  would  liave  described  the  defect  in 
lier  face  as  '  Avant  of  colour.'  She  was  one  of 
the  wliitest  of  fair  female  human  beings. 
Light  flaxen  hair,  faint  blue  eyes  with  no  ex- 
pression in  them,  and  a  complexion  Avhich 
looked  as  if  it  had  never  been  stirred  by  a  cir- 
culation of  blood,  produced  an  effect  on  her 
fellow-creatures  in  general  which  made  them 
insensible  to  the  beauty  of  her  figure,  and  the 
grace  of  her  movements.  There  was  no  be- 
trayal of  bad  health  in  her  strange  pallor  :  on 


2So  BLIND  LOVE 

the  contrary,  she  suggested  the  idea  of  rare 
physical  strength.  Her  quietly  respect  fid 
manner  was,  so  to  say,  emphasised  by  an 
underlying  self-possession,  which  looked 
capable  of  acting  promptly  and  fearlessly  in 
the  critical  emergencies  of  life.  Otherwise, 
the  expression  of  character  in  her  face  was 
essentially  passive.  Here  was  a  steady,  reso- 
lute young  woman,  possessed  of  qualities 
which  failed  to  show  themselves  on  the  surface 
— whether  good  qualities  or  bad  qualities  ex- 
perience alone  could  determine. 

Finding  it  impossible,  judging  by  a  first 
impression,  to  arrive  at  any  immediate  decision 
favourable  or  adverse  to  the  stranger,  Iris 
opened  the  interview  with  her  customary 
frankness ;  leaving  the  consequences  to  follow 
as  they  might. 

'  Take  a  seat,  Fanny,'  she  said,  '  and  let  us 
try  if  we  can  understand  each  other.  I  tliink 
you  will  agree  with  me  that  there  must  be  no 


THE  LADY'S  MAID  281 

concealments  between  us.  You  ouglit  to  know 
that  your  mistress  has  told  me  why  she  parted 
with  you.  It  was  her  duty  to  tell  me  tlie 
truth,  and  it  is  my  duty  not  to  be  unjustly 
prejudiced  against  you  after  what  I  have 
heard.  Pray  believe  me  when  I  say  that  I 
don't  knoAv,  and  don't  wish  to  know,  what 
your  temptation  may  have  been ' 

'  I  beg  your  pardon,  Miss,  for  interrupting 
you.     My  temptation  was  vanity.' 

Whether  she  did  or  did  not  suffer  in  mak- 
ing that  confession,  it  was  impossible  to  dis- 
cover. Her  tones  were  quiet ;  her  manner 
was  unobtrusively  respectful ;  the  pallor  of 
her  face  was  not  disturbed  by  the  slio-htest 
cliano'e  of  colour.  Was  the  new  maid  an 
insensible  person  ?  Iris  began  to  fear  already 
that  she  might  have  made  a  mistake. 

'  I  don't  expect  you  to  enter  into  par- 
ticulars,' she  said  ;  '  I  don't  ask  you  here  to 
humiliate  yourself.' 


282  BLIXD  LOVE 

'  When  I  got  your  letter,  Miss,  I  tried  to 
consider  how  I  might  show  myself  Avorthy  of 
your  kindness,'  Fanny  answered.  '  The  one 
way  I  could  see  was  not  to  let  you  think  better 
of  me  than  I  deserve.  When  a  person,  like 
me,  is  told,  for  the  first  time,  that  her  figure 
makes  amends  for  her  face,  she  is  flattered  by 
the  only  compliment  that  has  been  paid  to  her 
in  all  lier  life.  My  excuse.  Miss  (if  I  have  an 
excuse)  is  a  mean  one — I  couldn't  resist  a 
compliment.     That  is  all  I  have  to  say.' 

Iris  began  to  alter  her  opinion.  This  was 
not  a  young  woman  of  the  ordinary  type.  It 
began  to  look  possible,  and  more  than  possible, 
that  she  was  worthy  of  a  helping  hand.  The 
truth  seemed  to  be  in  her. 

'I  understand  you,  and  feel  for  you.' 
Having  replied  in  those  Avords,  Iris  wisely  and 
delicately  changed  the  subject.  '  Let  me  hear 
liow  you  are  situated  at  the  present  time,'  she 
continued.     '  Are  your  parents  hving  ?  ' 


THE  LADY'S  MAID  283 

'  My  father  and  mother  are  dead,  Miss.' 

'  Have  you  any  other  relatives  P  ' 

'  They  are  too  poor  to  be  able  to  do  any- 
thing for  me.  I  have  lost  my  character — and 
I  am  left  to  help  myself.' 

'  Suppose  you  fail  to  find  another  situa- 
tion ? '  Iris  suggested. 

'  Yes,  Miss  ?  ' 

'  How  can  you  help  yourself  ?  ' 

'I  can  do  what  other  girls  have  done.' 

'  What  do  you  mean  ?  ' 

'  Some  of  us  starve  on  needlework.  Some 
take  to  the  streets.  Some  end  it  in  the  river. 
If  there  is  no  other  chance  for  me,  I  think  I 
shall  try  that  way,'  said  the  poor  creature,  as 
quietly  as  if  she  was  speaking  of  some  custom- 
ary prospect  that  was  open  to  her.    '  There  will 

be  nobody  to  be  sorry  for  me and,  as  I  have 

read,  drowning  is  not  a  very  painful  death.' 

'  You  shock  me,  Fanny  !  I,  for  one,  should 
be  sorry  for  you.' 


284  BLIND  LOVE 

'  Thank  you,  Miss.' 

'  And  try  to  remember,'  Iris  continued, 
'  that  there  may  be  chances  in  the  future 
which  you  don't  see  yet.  You  speak  of  what 
you  have  read,  and  I  have  already  noticed  how 
clearly  and  correctly  you  express  yourself. 
You  must  have  been  educated.  Was  it  at 
liome  ?  or  at  school  ?  ' 

'  I  was  once  sent  to  school,'  Fanny  replied, 
not  quite  willingly. 

'  Was  it  a  private  school  ?  ' 

'  Yes.' 

That  short  answer  warned  Iris  to  be 
careful. 

'  Eecollections  of  school,'  she  said  good- 
humouredly,  '  are  not  the  pleasantest  recol- 
lections in  some  of  our  lives.  Perhaps  I  have 
touched  on  a  subject  which  is  disagreeable  to 
you  ?  ' 

'  You  have  touched  on  one  of  my  disap- 
pointments, Miss.     Wliile    my  mother   lived. 


THE  LADY'S   MAID  285 

she  was  my  teacher.  After  her  death,  my 
father  sent  me  to  scliooL  When  he  failed  in 
business,  I  was  obhged  to  leave,  just  as  I  liad 
begun  to  learn  and  like  it.  Besides,  the  girls 
found  out  that  I  was  going  away,  because 
there  was  no  money  at  liome  to  pay  the  fees 
— and  that  mortilied  me.  There  is  more  that 
I  might  tell  you.  I  have  a  reason  for  hating 
my  recollections  of  the  school — but  I  mustn't 
mention  tliat  time  in  my  life  which  your 
goodness  to  me  tries  to  forget.' 

All  that  appealed  to  her,  so  simply  and  so 
modestly,  in  that  reply,  was  not  lost  on  Iris. 
After  an  interval  of  silence,  she  said  : 

'  Can  you  guess  what  I  am  thinking  of, 
Fanny  ?  ' 

'  No,  Miss.' 

'I  am  asking  myself  a  question.  If  I  try 
you  in  my  service  shall  I  never  regret  it  ?  ' 

For  the  first  time,  strong  emotion  shook 
Fanny  Mere,     Iler  voice  failed    lier,  in    tlie 


286  BLIND  LOVE 

effort  to  speak.  Iris  considerately  went 
on. 

'  You  will  take  the  place,'  she  said,  '  of  a 
maid  who  has  been  with  me  for  years — a  good 
dear  creature  who  has  only  left  me  through 
ill-health.  I  must  not  expect  too  much  of 
you.  I  cannot  hope  that  you  will  be  to  me 
what  Ehoda  Bennet  has  been.' 

Fanny  succeeded  in  controlling  herself. 
'Is  there  any  hope,  she  asked,'  '  of  my  seeing 
Ehoda  Bennet?' 

'  Why  do  you  wish  to  see  her?  ' 

'You  are  fond  of  her.  Miss — that  is  one 
reason.' 

'  And  the  other  ?  ' 

'  Ehoda  Bennet  might  help  me  to  serve 
3^ou  as  I  want  to  serve  you ;  she  might 
perhaps  encourage  me  to  try  if  I  could  follow 
her  example.'  Fanny  paused,  and  clasped 
her  hands  fervently.  The  thought  that  was 
in  her  forced  its  way  to  expression.     '  It's  so 


THE  LADV'S  MAID  287 

easy  to  feel  grateful,'  slie  said — '  and,  oli,  so 
hard  to  show  it  ! ' 

'  Come  to  me,'  her  new  mistress  answered, 
'  and  show  it  to-morrow.' 

Moved  by  tliat  compassionate  impulse, 
Iris  said  the  words  which  restored  to  an 
unfortunate  creature  a  lost  character  and  a 
forfeited  place  in  tlie  world. 


288  BLIiyD  LOVE 


CHAPTEE  XV 

MR.    IIEXLEY's   temper 

|EOVIDED  by  Nature  with  ironclad 
constitutional  defences  against  ill- 
ness, Mr.  Henley  was  now  and  then 
troubled  with  groundless  doubts  of  his  own 
state  of  health.  Actino^  under  a  delusion  of 
this  kind,  he  imagined  symptoms  Avhich 
rendered  a  cliange  of  residence  necessary 
from  his  town  house  to  his  country  house,  a 
few  days  only  after  his  daughter  had  decided 
on  the  engagement  of  her  new  maid. 

Iris  gladly,  even  eagerly,  adapted  her  own 
wishes  to  the  furtherance  of  her  father's  plans. 
Sorely  tried  by  anxiety  and  suspense,  she 
needed  all  that  I'ost  and  tranquillity  could  do 


MR.  HENLEY'S   TEMPER  2S9 

for  her.  The  first  week  in  the  country  pro- 
duced an  improvement  in  her  health.  En- 
joying the  serene  beauty  of  woodland  and 
field,  breathing  the  delicious  purity  of  the  air. 
— sometimes  cultivating  her  own  corner  in  the 
garden,  and  sometimes  helping  the  women  in 
the  lighter  labours  of  the  dairy  — her  nerves 
recovered  their  tone,  and  her  spirits  rose  again 
to  their  higher  level. 

In  the  performance  of  her  duties  the  new 
maid  justified  Miss  Henley's  confidence  in  her, 
during  the  residence  of  the  liousehold  in  the 
country. 

She  showed,  in  her  own  undemonstrative 
way,  a  grateful  sense  of  her  mistress's  kind- 
ness. Her  various  occupations  were  intelli- 
gently and  attentively  pursued ;  her  even 
temper  never  seemed  to  vary  ;  she  gave  tlie 
servants  no  opportunities  of  compLnini no-  of  ]\qy. 
But  one  peculiarity  in  her  beliaviour  excited 
hostile  remark,  below-stairs      On  tlie  occasions 

VOL.    I.  u 


290  BLIND  LOVE 

when  she  was  free  to  go  out  for  the  day,  she 
always  found  some  excuse  for  not  joimng  any 
of  the  other  female  servants,  who  might 
happen  to  be  similarly  favoured.  The  one 
use  she  made  of  her  hohday  was  to  travel 
by  railway  to  some  place  unknown  ;  always 
returning  at  the  right  time  in  the  evening. 
Iris  knew  enouc^h  of  the  sad  circumstances  to 
be  able  to  respect  her  motives,  and  to  appre- 
ciate the  necessity  for  keeping  the  object  of 
those  solitary  journeys  a  secret  from  her 
fellow-servants. 

The  pleasant  life  in  the  country  house 
had  lasted  for  nearly  a  month,  when  the  an- 
nouncement of  Hugh's  approaching  return  to 
England  reached  Iris.  The  fatal  end  of  his 
father's  long  and  lingering  illness  had  arrived, 
and  the  funeral  liad  taken  place.  Business, 
connected  with  his  succession  to  the  property, 
would  detain  liim  in  London  for  a  few  days. 
Submitting    to    this    necessity,   he    earnestly 


MR.  HENLEV'S    TEMPER  291 

GX[)re.ssGd  the  hope  of  seeing  Iris  again,  the 
moment  he  was  at  Hberty. 

Hearing  the  good  news,  ]\Ir.  Hunley 
obstinately  returned  to  his  plans — already 
twice  thwarted — for  promoting  the  marriage 
of  Mountjoy  and  Iris. 

He  wrote  to  invite  Hugh  to  his  house  in 
a  tone  of  cordiality  which  astonished  his 
daughter ;  and  when  the  guest  arrived,  the 
genial  welcome  of  the  host  had  but  one 
defect — ^Mr.  Henley  overacted  his  part.  He 
gave  the  two  young  people  perpetual  oppor- 
tunities of  speaking  to  each  other  privately ; 
and,  on  the  principle  that  none  are  so  blind 
as  those  who  won't  see,  he  failed  to  discover 
that  the  relations  between  them  continued  to 
be  relations  of  friendship,  do  what  he  might. 
Hugh's  long  attendance  on  his  dying  father 
had  left  him  depressed  in  spirits  ;  Iris  under- 
stood him,  and  felt  for  him.      He  was  not 

u  2 


292  BLIND  LOVE 

ready  with  liis  opinion  of  the  new  maid,  after 
he  had  seen  Fanny  Mere.  'My  indination/ 
he  said, '  is  to  trust  the  girL  And  yet  I  hesitate 
to  follow  my  inclination — and  I  don't  know 
why/ 

When  Hugh's  visit  came  to  an  end,  he 
continued  his  journey  in  a  northerly  direction. 
The  property  left  to  him  by  his  father  included 
a  cottage,  standing  in  its  own  grounds,  on  the 
Scotch  shore  of  the  Solway  Firth.  The  place 
had  been  neglected  during  the  long  residence 
of  the  elder  Mr.  Mountjoy  on  the  Continent. 
Hugh's  present  object  was  to  judge,  by  his 
own  investigation,  of  the.  necessity  for  repairs. 

On  the  departure  of  his  guest,  Mr.  Henley 
(still  obstinately  hopeful  of  the  marriage  on 
which  he  had  set  his  mind)  assumed  a  jocular 
manner  towards  Iris,  and  asked  if  tlie  Scotch 
cottage  was  to  be  put  in  order  for  the  honey- 
moon. Her  reply,  gently  as  it  was  expressed, 
threw  him  into  a  state  of  fury.     His  vindictive 


MR,  HENLEY'S   TEMPER  293 

temper  revelled,  not  only  in  harsh  words,  but 
m  spiteful  actions.  He  sold  one  of  his  dogs 
which  had  specially  attached  itself  to  Iris  ; 
and,  seeing  that  she  still  enjoyed  the  country, 
he  decided  on  returning^  to  London. 

She  submitted  in  silence.  But  the  events 
of  that  past  time,  when  her  father's  merci- 
less conduct  had  driven  her  out  of  his  house, 
returned  ominously  to  her  memory.  She  said 
to  herself:  'Is  a  day  comhig  when  I  shall 
leave  him  again  ?  '  It  was  coming— and  slie 
little  knew  how. 


294  BLIND  LOVE 


CHAPTEE   XVI 

THE   DOCTOR   IN   FULL    DRESS 

E.  HENLEY'S  lioiisehold  had  been 
again  establislied  in  London,  when 
a  servant  appeared  one  morning 
with  a  visiting  card,  and  announced  that  a 
gentleman  had  called  wlio  wislied  to  see  Miss 
Henley.  She  looked  at  the  card.  The  gentle- 
man was  Mr.  Yimpany. 

On  the  ]x^int  of  directing  the  man  to  say 
tliat  she  was  engaged,  L^is  checked  herself. 

Mrs.  Yimpany 's  farewell  words  had  pro- 
duced a  strong  impression  on  her.  There  had 
been  moments  of  doubt  and  gloom  in  her  later 
life  when  the  remembrance  of  that  unhappy 
woman  was  associated  with  a  feeling  (perhaps 


THE  DOCTOR  IN  FULL  DRESS  295 

a  morbid  feeling)  of  self-reproacli..  It  seemed 
to  be  hard  on  the  poor  penitent  wretch  not  to 
have  written  to  her.  Was  she  still  leadino' 
the  same  dreary  life  in  the  mouldering  old 
town  ?  Or  had  she  made  another  attempt  to 
return  to  the  ungrateful  stage?  The  gross 
husband,  impudently  presenting  himself  with 
liis  card  and  his  message,  could  answer  tliose 
questions  if  he  could  do  nothing  else.  For 
that  reason  only,  Iris  decided  that  she  would 
receive  j\Ir.  Vimpany. 

On  entering  the  room,  she  found  two 
discoveries  awaiting  her,  for  wdiicli  she  was 
entirely  unprepared. 

The  doctor's  personal  appearance  exhibited 
a  strikino^  chans^e ;  he  was  dressed,  in  accord- 
ance  with  the  strictest  notions  of  professional 
propriety,  entirely  in  black.  More  remarkable 
still,  there  happened  to  be  a  French  novel 
among  the  books  on  the  table — and  that 
novel,  Mr.  Yinipan}^,  barbarous  Mr.  Yimpany, 


2g6  BLIND  LOVE 

was  actually  reading  with  an  appearance  of 

understanding  it  ! 

'I  seem  to  surprise  you,'  said  the  doctor. 

'  Is  it  this  ?  '     He  held  up  the  French  novel  as 

he  put  the  question. 

'  I   must  own  that   I   was   not  aware  of 

the   range    of    your     accomplishments,'   Iris 

answered. 

'  Oh,  don't  talk  of  accomplishments  I      I 

learnt  my  profession  in  Paris.     For  nigh  on 

three  years  I  lived  among  the  French  medical 
students.  Noticing  this  book  on  the  table,  I 
thought  I  would  try  whether  I  had  forgotten 
the  language — in  the  time  that  has  passed 
(you  know)  since  those  days.  Well,  my 
memory  isn't  a  good  one  in  most  things,  but, 
strange  to  say  (force  of  habit,  I  suppose),  some 
of  my  French  sticks  by  me  still.  I  hope  I  see 
you  well.  Miss  Henley.  Might  I  ask  if  you 
noticed  the  new  address,  when  I  sent  up  my 
card  ? ' 


THE  DOCTOR  IN  FULL   DRESS  297 

'  I  only  noticed  your  name.' 
The  doctor  produced  his  pocket-book,  and 
took  out  a  second  card.  With  pride  he 
pointed  to  the  address  :  '  5  Eedburn  Eoad, 
Hampstead  Heath.'  With  pride  he  looked  at 
his  black  clothes.  '  Strictly  professional,  isn't 
it  ?  '  he  said.  '  I  have  bought  a  new  practice  ; 
and  I  have  become  a  new  man.  It  isn't  easy 
at  first.  No,  by  Jingo — I  beg  your  pardon— 
I  was  about  to  say,  my  own  respectability 
rather  bothers  me ;  I  shall  get  used  to  it  in 
time.  If  you  will  allow  me  I'll  take  a  liberty. 
No  offence,  I  hope  ?  ' 

He  produced  a  handful  of  his  cards,  and 
laid  them  out  in  a  neat  little  semicircle  on  the 
table. 

'  A  word  of  recommendation,  when  you 
have  the  chance,  would  be  a  friendly  act  on 
your  part,'  he  explained.  'Capital  air  in 
Eedburn  Eoad,  and  a  fine  view  of  the  Heath  out 
of  the  garret  windows — but  it's  rather  an  out- 


293  BLIND   LOVE 

of-the-way  situation.  Xot  that  I  complain ; 
beggars  mustn't  be  choosers.  I  should  have 
preferred  a  practice  in  a  fashionable  part 
of     London  ;     but     our     little    windfall    of 


money 

He  came  to  a  full  stop  in  the  middle  of  a 
sentence.  The  sale  of  the  superb  diamond 
pin,  by  means  of  which  Lord  Harry  had 
repaid  Mrs.  Yimpany's  services,  was,  of  all 
domestic  events,  the  last  which  it  might  be 
wise  to  mention  in  the  presence  of  Miss 
Henley.  He  was  awkwardly  silent.  Taking 
advantage  of  that  circumstance,  Iris  introduced 
the  subject  in  whicli  she  felt  interested. 

'  How  is  Mrs.  Yimpany  ?  '  she  asked.  ' 

'  Oh,  she's  all  right ! ' 

'  Does  she  like  your  new  house  P ' 

The  doctor  made  a  strange  reply.  'I 
really  can't  tell  you,'  he  said. 

'  Do  you  mean  that  Mrs.  Yimpany  declines 
to  express  an  opinion  ?  ' 


THE  DOCTOR  IN  FULL  DRESS  299 

He  laughed.  'In  all  my  experience,'  lie 
said,  '  I  never  met  with  a  woman  who  did 
that !  No,  no  ;  the  fact  is,  my  wife  and  I 
liave  parted  company.  There's  no  need  to 
look  so  serions  about  it  !  Incompatibility  of 
temper,  as  the  saying  is,  has  led  us  to  a 
friendly  separation.  Equally  a  relief  on  both 
sides.     She  goes  her  way,  and  I  go  mine.' 

His  tone  -disgusted  Iris — and  she  let  him 
see  it.  'Is  it  of  any  use  to  ask  you  for  Mrs. 
Yimpany's  address  ?  '  she  inquired. 

His  atrocious  good-humour  kept  its 
balance  as  steadily  as  ever :  '  Sorry  to  disap- 
point you.  Mrs.  Yimpany  hasn't  given  me 
lier  address.  Curious,  isn't  it?  The  fact  is, 
slie  moped  a  good  deal,  after  you  left  us  ; 
talked  of  her  duty,  and  the  care  of  her  soul, 
and  that  sort  of  thing.  When  I  hear  where 
she  is,  I'll  let  you  know  with  pleasure.  To 
the  best  of  my  belief,  she's  doing  nurse's  work 
somewhere.' 


300  BLIND  LOVE 

'Nurse's  worki     What  do  you  mean  ?  ' 

'  Oh,  the  right  thmg — all  in  the  fashion. 
She  belongs  to  what  they  call  a  Sisterhood  ; 
goes  about,  you  know,  in  a  shabby  black 
gown,  with  a  poke  bonnet.  At  least,  so  Lord 
Harry  told  me  the  other  day.' 

In  spite  of  herself,  Iris  betrayed  the  agita- 
tion which  those  words  instantly  roused  in  her. 
'Lord  Harry!'  she  exclaimed.  'Where  is 
he  ?     In  London  ?  ' 

'  Yes-^at  Parker's  Hotel.' 

'  When  did  he  return  ?  ' 

'  Oh,  a  few  days  ago  ;  and — what  do  j^ou 
think? — he's  come  back  from  the  gold-fields  a 
lucky  man.  Damn  it,  I've  let  the  cat  out  of 
the  bag !  I  was  to  keep  the  thing  a  secret 
from  everybody,  and  from  you  most  particu- 
larly. He's  got  some  surprise  in  store  for  you. 
Don't  tell  him  what  I've  done !  We  had 
a  little  misunderstanding,  in  past  days,  at 
Honeybuzzard — and,    now    we    are     friends 


THE  DOCTOR  IN  FULL  DRESS  301 

again,   I   don't    want   to   lose   his   lordship's 
interest.' 

Iris  promised  to  be  silent.  But  to  know 
that  the  wild  lord  was  in  England  again,  and 
to  remain  in  ignorance  whether  he  had,  or 
liad  not,  returned  with  the  stain  of  bloodshed 
on  him,  was  more  than  she  could  endure. 

'  There  is  one  question  I  must  ask  you,'  she 
said.    '  I  have  reason  to  fear  that  Lord  Harry 

left  this  country,  with  a  purpose  of  revenge -' 

Mr.  Yimpany  wanted  no  further  explana- 
tion. 'Yes,  yes  ;  I  know.  You  may  be  easy 
about  that.  There's  been  no  mischief  done, 
either  one  way  or  the  otlier.  The  man  he 
Avas  after,  when  lie  landed  in  South  Africa  (he 
told  me  so  himself),  has  escaped  him.' 

With  that  reply,  the  doctor  got  up  in  a 
hurry  to  bring  his  visit  to  an  end.  He  pro- 
posed to  take  to  flight,  he  remarked  face- 
tiously, before  Miss  Henley  wheedled  him  into 
saying  anything  more. 


302  BLIND  LOVE 

Alter  opening  the  duor,  liowevcr,  lie 
suddenly  returned  to  Iris,  and  added  a  last 
word  m  the  strictest  confidence. 

'  If  you  won't  forget  to  recommend  me  to 
your  friends,'  he  said,  'I'll  trust  you  with 
another  secret.  You  will  see  his  lordship  in 
a  day  or  two,  when  he  returns  from  the  races. 
Good-bye.' 

The  races  !  What  was  Lord  Harry  doing 
at  the  races  ? 


END    OF   THE    FIRST   VOLUME 


PRINTED    BY 

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